Black Grace and Brimstone
by Treble15
Summary: Voldemort's supporters mounted when he rose again. Some of his Death Eaters were students that came inside of Hogwarts, itself. Liora Cavyon is a fifth year student when she is branded with the Dark Mark, binding her to the Death Eaters and Voldemort. However, being branded is simply not enough for Liora to know where her beliefs and loyalties truly lie.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANYTHING J.K. ROWLING CREATED—ALL RIGHTS GO DESERVINGLY TO HER. I ONLY OWN LIORA. **

There was always the inconceivable notion of what I would eventually have to do. As a child, it seemed exciting, my parents coming back scratched and bruised, but smiling for The Cause. I didn't know what they did exactly, but they did it for a reason. That reason would remain abstract until I was thirteen.

When that reason was finally resurrected, I fully was immersed into what my parents really did. Before, I had been naively blind. They were as brutal as their name suggested—consumers of the grave.

Death Eaters.

That was what I was always destined to be. Since the day I was born, my arm was never mine. It was marked as You-Know-Who's. Most people were born with a blank slate, a chance for them to build a future and go anywhere they pleased. That had never been the case for me.

You-Know-Who's glory and undeniable power was burned into my mind from the time where I began to remember things. It had been rumored my first word was _crucio_, but that was just a myth. Too bad though, that would've been some indicator that my predestined path was the right one.

Of course, everyone would say it was the right one. How could it not be? It was apparently impossible for any pureblood—or half-blood, in my mother's case—to be wrong. Those disgusting Mudbloods and Muggles would be our demise, as I was taught. We had to end them before they ended us.

And a child can be taught something as horrible as killing other people. It's okay, as long as it's justified—which I was also taught. As long as the killing was in the name of the Dark Lord.

I had once brought up the connotation between evil and darkness which always confused me because the Dark Lord was the _Dark_ Lord. But, weren't we the good guys?

Not good, _right._ Being right was more important than being good, according to my mother who proceeded to forbid me from ever saying that again. It was dangerous to doubt the Dark Lord.

I didn't have conviction in him, I had my doubts.

It was a damn good thing I had been conditioned never to cringe, to always wear a mask, hiding my real thoughts. That would be my grace for a long time.

Until something came along and broke that black grace.


	2. Origins

**DISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANYTHING J.K. ROWLING CREATED—ALL RIGHTS GO DESERVINGLY TO HER. I OWN LIORA, ARCHANA, SABLE, DANTON, LAZZARO, BONIFACE, AND WILHELMINA. **

**THIS IS MY FIRST STORY AND IT WOULD BE GREAT IF YOU COULD REVIEW. ANY KIND OF CRITICISM IS ACCEPTED—JUST DON'T BE TOO HARSH : ). **

**HOPE YOU ENJOY!**

**Chapter 1—Origins **

"You're fine. You'll be fine," I whispered pathetically to myself. I tried to smile, but I ended up grimacing, my skin aging in appearance from the forced wrinkles. The skin around my mouth looked and felt dry like parchment.

When there was a knock at my door, I smoothed out the skin around my face, running my hands over my mouth, making sure I was complacent looking. Slowly spinning away from the mirror, the knob turned as I forced "come in" out of my mouth, sounding gravelly. A calming draught would've been helpful right now. I was never allowed them because they supposedly made me weak physically and mentally.

Erecting myself as stiff as I could, I jerked forward to the mahogany door and brusquely pulled it open. A relieved sigh mismatched my haughty expression when I saw who stood there.

"You don't have to knock, you know," I informed as my visitor fluidly shut the door.

She shrugged and laughed, hiding her worry well. I suppose it was also possible she didn't have any worry.

"Liora, we'll be fine. We have to be. Worrying does not suit you. It makes you look pale."

"Paler than I already am," I scoffed.

She playfully bumped past me and went to examine herself in front of my mirror. I joined her so we were side-by-side.

It was remarkable how some people thought we looked alike. Personally, I thought we bore minimal resemblance for sisters, but more so than Bellatrix and Narcissa.

Archana was only a fourth year—too young to have to embark on what we were going to. She stood several inches taller than me, passing me in height within the past school year. Her dark brown hair swooped in massive, intentional waves. She had wide, hazel eyes that were almost identical to mine in color—only hers being several shades darker. Her build favored our father's—lean and slender. Her face was sharper.

It was almost comical to be shorter than her as her older sister. Although the shortness fit my more curved structure. My hair was a lighter shade of brown that hers, and curlier, too. I was also noticeably paler than her—a trait I had learned to love. I believed my face belonged on a child sometimes.

For years I had myself convinced I was more beautiful than her. But sometimes, I wasn't so sure. This feeling was recent. The idea that we could both be equally beautiful seemed impossible.

"When is Sable coming to get us?" I looked at my sister in the mirror, trying out a half-smirk. It looked ridiculous.

Archana laughed. She seemed to do that a lot when she was nervous. Well, she did that a lot in general.

We called our mother by her name when she wasn't there. Archana had tried calling her Mum when we were younger, but she hissed at that Muggle term. That was what she called her Muggle mother, a woman she was no longer allowed to see.

My maternal grandfather was Boniface—French, I believe. He came from a quite impressive pureblood family. They were not large supporters of Voldemort, but his act of marrying a Muggle was enough to get him labeled as a Blood Traitor and virtually thrown out of the wizarding world.

Wilhelmina was Boniface's wife. I had seen a picture of her once. It was black and white and oddly unmoving. Yet, she was beautiful. Her stare was delicate and there was a small smile on her face, a look I wish I could mimic now. I have never seen her in person or as an old lady as she would be now.

I have heard several different tales of my grandparents. They lived away from the wizarding world until my mother was inevitably sent to Hogwarts, where she became a Slytherin and attempted to bury her blood status. She did impressively because she met my father, Danton. He came from the typical, ancient pureblood family that was obsessed with blood status. How he and my mother ended together seems impossible.

Back to my grandparents, after my mother and father were engaged, it was offered for my grandfather to return to the wizarding world with full privileges without my grandmother. He said no, he would not leave his wife.

That angered the purebloods, so he and my grandmother fled from England to France. They are in hiding there.

I have also heard Death Eaters went after them and killed them.

"She said it would only be a few moments. That means it might take another hour," Archana leaned over and grinned at me. I liked to think it was for my approval, being her older sister, but that was just me being shallow.

"Why we can't just meet downstairs is beyond me," I grumbled. I turned away from the mirror, tired of looking at myself. I sat down on my bed, careful not to wrinkle the navy dress robes I wore. Despite the event, I had been excited to get a new pair of dress robes.

Archana was also wearing dress robes—emerald ones that were supposed to compliment our eyes. Although, I thought mine were greener than hers.

She sat down next to me and stared at her wand, hands absently running up and down it. I patted my side and felt my wand nestled in my pocket.

"Sable said something about wanting to talk to us," Archana speculated.

Flopping back on my bed, I groaned. Whenever our mother wanted to have a talk with us, it meant something awkward and uncomfortable. I had gotten a talk right before I went to Hogwarts about being the best Slytherin I could be before I was even sorted. I was a Slytherin, but doubted I was the best I could be.

And then there was the sex talk I received second year, when I had told Sable I thought Theodore Nott had a crush on me.

"It can't be that bad. We've already gotten _the _talk," Archana assured herself. She was completely against saying any swear or type of gross word. She couldn't even speak with a dirty mouth. I didn't know how she was supposed to go through with this without crumbling.

We waited for almost a half an hour before our mother finally came in. She was in gray robes that were almost silver, but not quite. Her black hair was partially pulled back. Her wand was gripped tightly in her right hand. She looked like she was in pain. She shut the door quietly and sat down on my armchair by the window.

Her shoulders slumped forward and she put her elbows on her knees, a hand slowly moving towards her face. "Your brother is excited."

"Of course he is," I mumbled. Our older brother, Lazzaro wouldn't have been himself if he wasn't excited. I was concerned with him. He was so easily impressionable in areas where the purebloods wanted him to be.

"I want to make this quick, okay? We have to leave soon. When we get there, you keep your heads high and you do not show fear. Remember, hesitation is dangerous. Be sure in everything you do and say."

"Yes, Mother," we chorused. I always felt pathetic after I chirped pre-determined responses like that.

She gave us hesitant smiles and the rose slowly. We stood up after her. As we moved towards the door, she gave us each a peck on the head and told us she loved us. It was not uncommon for her to do that, but she usually did that right before we went off to bed or left for school.

I glanced at Archana to see is she noticed our mother's reluctance. She just marched right behind our mother into the hallway without glancing back at me. Always the good little follower. It was so easy for my siblings to fall into line.

Once we were in the entrance to our home, I watched my brother walking towards us, trying to repress a smug grin. I wanted slap it off like the Muggles did.

The three of us congregated in front of our mother who turned and faced us. "You all have your wands?"

We nodded.

"Good. Your father's already there so I have to apparate will all of you." She pulled open the heavy front door and we followed her out.

Archana grabbed our mother's left hand. I grabbed Archana's hand. Lazzaro gripped my shoulder tightly, grinning maliciously at me.

"Shut up," I growled.

"I didn't say anything," he growled back, playfully, but also dangerously.

Sable tiredly sighed and held up her wand, warning us we were going to apparate in three, two, one.


	3. The Skull and the Snake

**REMINDER, I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. I ONLY OWN THE CHARACTERS YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE, THE MAIN ONE BEING LIORA. THANKS SO MUCH. I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND REVIEW! **

** Chapter 2—The Skull and the Snake **

I tended to lurch toward the ground after apparating. After being pulled down—that was what if felt like for me—I had to jerk myself up quickly to prevent myself from tumbling to the ground. Although, I had only fallen the first time, there was still a stigma with me, being a bad side-apparator. Unlike both my siblings, I had never vomited after their first time. Lazzaro had almost fainted his first time. I just became a little shaky, like the sensation Muggles felt when stepping off a merry-go-round or a roller coaster—that was something I shouldn't know.

Lazzaro staggered to the iron gate and leaned against it, while trying to keep himself looking regal. Archana didn't try to hide her discomfort. She leaned forward slightly, taking deeps breaths, her eyes closed. She had apparated fewer times than Lazzaro and me.

My mother kept herself rigid as she gently drew Lazzaro away from the gate. "Shoulders straight, heads high," she drawled confidently, facing the gate, her back to us. She lifted up both hands, her wand in her right one. She slowly dragged the wand across her lower left arm. She shook slightly, vaguely reminding me of the whomping willow on the grounds of Hogwarts. Part of the tree was permanently damaged by some idiotic gits crashing into it with a flying car my first year of school.

I stepped up slightly behind my mother, drawing in as much tainted air as I could with my convulsing lungs. There was still the phantom feel of being squeezed through a pipe.

The rigid patterns in the gate began to dissolve and twirl like billows of smoke floating from a candle that had just been blown out. Eventually, the patterns disappeared from an area that was just large enough for a person to walk through.

And someone did. A person hardly sane enough to be called a human.

"Madam Lestrange," Lazzaro declared deeply, bowing slightly and offering his hand to hers. Pathetic.

"What a gentleman," the dark woman cackled, nodding at him inappropriately.

"Madam Lestrange," Archana smiled chivalrously. _Too Gryffindor_, I could picture Bellatrix saying.

She then moved towards me and glared at me with loath. We had a safely mutual disdain for the other. I was _too Hufflepuff _for her. Easily more so than her, at the least. I disliked her, but could not say so. She could tell. She always knew.

Turning from me, Bellatrix rested a hand on my mother's shoulder. "Sable, you must be proud. All three of your children at once. And one being only fourteen. It is truly an honor. You must see Cissy and Lucius; they are not pleased they only have one child to give to the Dark Lord." I was thankful Bellatrix did not have any children to 'give' to the Dark Lord. They would've been completely swallowed in blackness from the moment they took a breath. At least I'd nearly sixteen years to breathe.

"Yes, it is a rather rare and exciting occurrence. I was surprised when the Dark Lord even commanded Lazzaro to be one. He is truly gracious and giving. "

Bellatrix's smile wavered to maniacal joy for a moment. "Yes, well, he is not as patient as he is gracious and kind, which he should not have to be. He's done thirteen years of waiting. Let us not keep him waiting any longer."

"Of course," Sable agreed and floated forward after Bellatrix. Walking behind her was similar to following a corporeal shadow. Something dark, but entirely real.

The inside of Malfoy Manor was extraordinary. There were vaulted ceilings constructed of white marble and flooring from a similar texture. Tapestries heavy enough to crush a person hung as medieval decorations. There were long rugs that ran along hallways, offsetting the cold floor. All the furniture was a lush wood, finished in black lacquer and polished exquisitely. The inside and outside resembled a brimstone castle.

Even the grounds themselves were lavish. There were albino peacocks that must've been transfigured to retain an iridescent coloring. That one detail seemed a hint desperate for regality.

We stood in the dining room, some people standing and others sitting. My siblings and I were clustered around the two chairs my parents sat on. I had seen Sable go to reach Danton's hand which he gripped tightly, the tendons in his hand popping out, pushing at his leathered skin.

Most of the chairs were occupied by _them_—Death Eaters. They all wore dark colors and held their wands possessively in their hands. I could tell many of them were itching to touch the marks branded on their left arms. I took a moment to glance down at my bare arm, and then at Lazzaro's and Archana's. We would all be blemished with evil soon.

Pressing my thoughts down, I felt my face begin to pinch, a sign I was going to express some type of emotion that would not be favorable to my situation. _You're weak. Push it down. Stop thinking about all of this. You aren't the only one going through this._

Across the room, near the head of the table, there was Draco Malfoy. He tried to be smug, but he was only cocky in school, where there was nothing truly harmful to him. As soon as he was flung into a situation that was actually dangerous, he shut down. I had seen it several times. He and my brother were dorm mates and friends—accomplice was a better term.

Narcissa and Lucius were both stiff-backed and stoic. It was striking how similar they were, making me question how pure their gene pool truly was, considering who their son was and how he had turned out.

Like my father, I had wondered what Lucius had had to do to get Voldemort to allow us to be in the positions we were in. I couldn't say I was grateful.

At the head of the table was the snake man himself.

His appearance was repulsing. He no longer resembled anything remotely human, but more reptilian. His nose had miraculously vanished and his eyes had turned red, like they were orbs of blood. There had been pictures of him from when he was my age—and he was completely human looking, maybe even slightly attractive—I gag for thinking that. But anyways, something evil had happened to him. Something so deep he could never crawl back to even simple humanity.

When he stood, it was like a pillar of a waterfall cascading backwards. He moved fluidly, almost delicately.

The immediate effect he had on people was ambiguous.

"My followers, today I have so mercifully and gloriously chosen to expand the ranks of the most revered among the young. These new members are youthful and vigorous, and will undoubtedly do well to bid to my every beckon." I glanced around at a few of my other schoolmates who had so fortunately been chosen for this glorious honor. Wow, we were so unbelievably blessed.

After several more minutes of different phrases for us bidding to his every beckon, Voldemort finally began to call us all forward.

"Lazzaro Alvar Cavyon." My brother was called after Lorraine and Willington Sax—seventh year twins that were willing to jump of any building or jinx anything in the name of what it truly meant to be Slytherin. This was just a stepping stone to being the ultimate green and silver student. Lorraine was even on the verge of being suicidal if it brought honor to Salazar, who was rumored to be a direct ancestor of her and her brother.

My brother stood proud, touching shoulders with Lorraine, who was staring at him with unrestrained passion. He was suddenly someone worth talking to for her.

There was only one other sixth year called, and that was Malfoy. As he walked across the long stretch of floor, I began to notice he had paled as white as the floor and ceiling. One misstep of his foot and he could crash into the corner of the dining room table. What a sight that would be. I began to chuckle in my head lightly, trying to restrain myself from doing it physically—

"Liora Valene Cavyon."

Glass was interesting. Wizards and Muggles alike marveled at its distinct beauty. It could be cut and colored into many different things. The surface could be smooth like silk or rough cut like it had never been blasted from sand. Glass was sometimes used for trivial things or important things. It could be used as window panes to keep the elements away form a person, or it could be a tiny, harmless trinket that has no greater purpose than to be gawked at. Also, glass had varying degrees of thickness and strength. Some glass was fragile and flimsy while others were rigid and crystal like. Bu above all, glass was breakable. If someone tried hard enough to smash it, eventually they would be able to.

I knew I would be in trouble if I made him call my name again. I wrenched my hands from the back of my father's chair and tried to keep myself walking in a way that didn't look completely ridiculous. I had forgotten my mother's advice, as people tended to when they were under stressful situations. If something was not second nature in a dire event, then it would be forgotten.

I was then shoved against Malfoy's shoulder. He glared at me, but said nothing, never daring to talk out of term.

"Archana Imogene Cavyon." It was a stupid thing to be upset about, but I was upset because I did not want Archana to have to undertake in something like this. She was only a year younger than me, but it was still a year. And Lazzaro was only a year older than me, but I did not feel nearly as much worry for him as I did for our younger sister. Their ages seemed far apart, as if I wasn't there to bridge the two year gap between the two of them. Lazzaro seemed much older and Archana much younger.

"Trent Corbett Hallenzing." It was barbaric to make a third year go through with this. Trent was a sickly, translucent looking boy that was the ghost of Slytherin house—not literally, of course. He went unnoticed that I often forgot he was there. He could easily hide and blended in well with nearly nothing any absolutely anything.

Trent's personality had never been apparent to me. He just seemed like a little house elf or owl that did whatever anyone else told him to do. Originally from Romania, I had always wondered why he had gone to Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang.

When the seven of us were lined up, Voldemort took the time to pace and stare each of us in the eye, simultaneously daring and commanding us to look at him right back. Everyone managed to, but I could tell most people struggled not to cringe—minus the Sax twins; Lorraine looked about ready to leap at him and smother his feet.

Turning back around, Voldemort swept his arm toward the older Death Eaters. "These seven will be the future. They will pick up where you have left off when you have either died in my name, or have been disposed of because you are of no more use to me. However, like you, these children are not forever. Only I am forever." Bellatrix almost jumped up to embrace him. Everyone else around the room nodded in varying degrees of agreement.

And then, in a purposefully slow and anxious gesture, Voldemort extended his wand out to Willington—the first in line—and ordered the boy to remove his. Willington pulled out his wand and held it in his right hand.

Voldemort bony fingers moved across the surface of Willington's wand. Hickory wood, nine inches long, sturdy. Good for jinxes. Do you, Willington Sax swear to give yourself to me, to become one of my Death Eaters for as long as I command you to and do whatever I ask without question and complete devotion?" Part of that sounded vaguely dirty to me…I suppose now wasn't the time to try and lighten the mood.

Willington nodded. "I do, my Lord. I do. I promise to always remain faithful and loyal to you. "

Voldemort nodded, pleased.

He suddenly seized Willington's left arm, causing me to flinch. Sable threw me a stern look from across the room.

"Then I name you as a Death Eater."

I didn't dare look over at to what Voldemort was doing to Willington, but it sounded painful. Willington was grunting and breathing harshly, but in a triumphant way. He wanted this pain.

Then Voldemort stopped, and there was a relieved sigh from Willington. "Thank you, my Lord," he whispered. From the corner of my eye, I could see Willington's head dipping down to examine his forearm.

The process was then repeated for Lorraine, who sounded uncomfortably happy when she was getting the mark, proceeding to lick it after if was on her arm.

Lazzaro was able to remain completely silent while Voldemort proceeded to brand my brother. It was an amazing feat. There was literally no sound, except for the sizzling coming from Voldemort's wand. Those green sparks coming out of his wand would be charring my skin, soon.

Malfoy almost keeled over when he was branded, wavering like he was an apparition about to flicker out. It really was hard to watch without wanting to sigh in sympathy for him. I could see his mother gripping the edge of the table harshly.

Finally, he had moved to stand in front of me. I stared at him for a moment before I remembered to pull out my wand. I held it in my left hand.

He chuckled. "Oh, a left hander. Well, you might not want to do any spells for the next couple of days. Your arm will be hurting."

I nodded quickly.

"Liora Cavyon, are you willing to be a Death Eater? To give yourself and your mind to me? To fulfill your purpose of doing whatever I say and remaining completely loyal and unquestioning to me?"

I nodded again. "I would be a fool it I didn't."

He chuckled. "Very true, very true. Well then, Liora, I brand you with the skull and the snake, as a symbol that shows your absolute loyalty to me."

Like he did with the people before me, he gripped my arm tightly, drawing it towards him, my wand clattered to the ground—seven inch rosewood with the core of a thestral mane, useful for more powerful spells that required more energy.

The tip of his wand bit into my skin, possibly breaking it. Then saying something, a fiery pain injected into my arm, causing my bones to feel like they were boiling and my skin to feel like it was smoking. The odd part was, there was no pain in the rest of my body. In fact, I could hardly feel the rest of my body, only the hot pain in my arm and the higher octave cries that were ripping their ways through my lungs.

Finally, Voldemort let go of my arm, and the pain went away immediately. I collapsed onto my knees, sighing and then gasping again when the pain cruelly returned from its hopefully permanent hiding.

Voldemort turned back to my parents. "Work on the pain threshold with that one. I will not have weak Death Eaters."

The only decent things about the pain was it kept me distracted from Archana, who made little squeaks, but not as bad as me. I think Trent was as quiet as he ever was, silent screams appeared to be escaping from his open mouth.

Trent collapsed to the ground, more than I did. He fell from his knees onto his side and then rolled into himself. Immediately, his father started yelling at him in a foreign language, getting up and dragging him out of there. There was a common punishment I had heard Trent endured a lot. It was a pain that would've been worse than being branded.

Eventually, Lorraine and Willington and their mother left, all bowing before the Dark Lord and walking out with Bellatrix, who was unsurprisingly fond of Lorraine.

My two siblings and I stood in a loose circle, too tired to say anything, and shifting to make room for Malfoy when he came to stand. He nodded to Archana and me with tight lips and roughly shook Lazzaro's hand. "See you in Diagon Alley in a few days?" Lazzaro nodded and then Malfoy left and walked away to his mother, who looked ready to weep.

When Sable and Danton moseyed over, Sable gently placed a kiss on each of our foreheads, Lazzaro swatting her away. When I tried to give Sable a hug, she scooted back out of my reach.

Danton told us he was proud of us and assured me he would bring my pain threshold up. I thought of Trent when he said that and began to shake my head. "No, no, no. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

Sable came to my side. "Danton, you will not use an Unforgivable on our daughter. You save those for the Mudbloods and Blood Traitors."

"But the Dark Lord said—"

"Danton, if she were ever to become a Blood Traitor, I would do it myself. But, that will never happen because of this mark on her arm." Sable grabbed my arm while I yelped and shoved it at my father's face.

He nodded. "Then let's go home."

My parents walked ahead, whispering to each other.

Lazzaro kept pulling back his sleeve to examine his arm.

Archana limped along beside me, keeping her arm pressed against her dress robes.

I tried to grip my wand with my left hand, but it hurt too much to even clench my fingers around my wand. So in my head, I kept thinking I was pointing it at him, yelling _crucio_ over and over while I laughed in pleasure.


	4. Unforgivables on the Unforgivable

**IT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING THAT JK ROWLING CLAIMS—SHE DESERVES ALL THE CREDIT. HOWEVER, I DO OWN LIORA AND HER FAMILY. ANYONE YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE, I PROBABLY OWN, JUST ASK. **

**ALSO, IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT ANYTHING, I WOULD BE GLAD TO ANSWER THEM. AS ALWAYS, I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND REVIEW. I'M OPEN TO CRITICISM. **

**Chapter 3—Unforgivables on the Unforgivable **

_"Wingardium levios—_aaaah!" My wand clattered to the floor while I took my right hand to grip my left arm. The damned Mark slithered around like a real snake would. I could feel the scales of it under my skin and the roughness of the skull.

It was sometime in the middle of the night and I had been trying to do basic spells for the past few hours, taking frequent and long breaks to breathe. My vanity mirror had been cracked in half when I tried to perform an _accio _spell on my hairbrush, and then cracked into fourths when I tried to repair it. Not only did destructive tendencies come out of my wand, my forearm maximized in pain each time I touched it or my wand.

I glared at the Potions textbook I had tried to levitate. The edges of the pages were charred. Kicking it away, it thudded against my wall loudly.

Normally, I was pleased my mother had found a loophole for us at the Ministry. My siblings and I were able to use magic in the summer, without running the risk of being caught and thrown out of Hogwarts. However, it was now a curse because Archana's spells seemed to get more powerful with the Mark while mine were dwindling in power and backfiring, literally. My hair had gotten blown back when I tried a simple _aguamenti _spell to try and fill a goblet beside my bed.

Promptly, I tossed my traitorous wand onto my bed, golden sparks flying out of the end.

The core of my wand was from the mane or a tail of a thestral. I had not heard of any other wand with the same core. When I had gone to retrieve my wand as an eleven-year-old, that brilliant kook Ollivander stated he had no knowledge of where the wand had came from—yet he somehow knew everything about it. It was apt at performing powerful spells and jinxes, yet it was a little unpredictable and unstable. That had gotten me in trouble a few times in my earlier years. I had been name Mrs. Finnegan, because I had the unfortunate event of having a powerful and untrustworthy wand in the hands of a child that didn't know what they were doing.

There was a big difference between Finnegan and I. I had developed skill over time, while he remained static and continued to blow up ridiculous things. I had once heard while he was playing a game of Quidditch in the summer, he blew up a bludger just by hitting it with a beaters' bat.

I liked to consider myself prodigal in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was astute with spells to defend the Dark Arts, but was also quiet gifted in spells that were considered Dark—courtesy of my father teaching me. However, I preferred not to use those spells as often.

I was near rubbish in all other classes. Alright, maybe not rubbish. I was fairly decent in History of Magic, and Muggle Studies. I was mediocre in Care of Magical Creatures—they always seemed to want to attack me. Transfiguration, Divination, and Astronomy I was absolute rubbish in. I wasn't even on the map to be considered a bad Potions student—I'll admit I've blown up more cauldrons than Finnegan.

And this was my OWLS year. I was fairly certain I could scrape by in all of them without studying—except for Potions.

However, I was now almost entirely certain I would drown in essays and helpless assignments because I was now a Death Eater—

_I _was a Death Eater.

Shivering, I picked up my wand and deposited it on my nightstand and pushed the covers aside so I could get in. I then drew them up tightly around me, my left arm burning when the sheet rubbed against it.

Glancing over at my wand once again, I tried to feel the usual uniqueness I achieved from looking at it. It was unknown of anyone else who had the same core as I did. That couldn't be possible that I was the only one, but I liked to think I was the only one.

"I'm sorry, but if I have to see her face, I'm going to punch her." Archana looked at me strangely.

I looked around quickly and scrambled to cover up my Muggle slip. "It still hurts to use my wand. My only option now would be to punch her."

Archana looked slightly hurt. "You know, you could just not to anything. I'm not going to force you to interact with her."

_Or you could have chosen less annoying friends_. I suppose it wasn't possible to have any decent friends in the Slytherin house. Everyone was horrible to some degree. I recognized I was. The only Slytherin I knew who seemed to have a better soul than anyone else was Archana, and I speculated it was just because she was young.

"It's not _all _your friends. It's just Astoria. She's like a slightly less insufferable version of Pansy. _She_ has got to be the most annoying member of our House."

My sister smirked, and nodded in agreement.

"Who's the most annoying member of our House?" Lazzaro emerged into the kitchen with a genuine grin. One of our house elves Saba said good morning to him. Lazzaro flippantly ignored her, knocking her out of the way as he sat down at the head of the table. He seemed to think he had some claim to everything in this house, more so than Archana and me. He said because he was the oldest and a male. I told him that only worked for a throne.

"Do you even have to ask?" I said lowly, with an eyebrow raised at him.

"The vomit-inducing Liora Cavyon?"

I took a moment to realize he was joking. "Haha."

"What? You think I'm joking?" He questioned sarcastically. "I know. Parkinson?"

"Pansy Parkinson is not that bad! She's actually quite a lovely person." I turned away when Sable walked in so I could roll my eyes without her seeing.

"Mother, Parkinson is one of the most repulsive people I have ever met," I told her. "Further proof, only a moron would date her. Remember who Lazzaro was locking lips with in his third year? Little first year Archana almost went blind when she walked into the common room for the first time."

Lazzaro glared at me with wide eyes and went for his wand. He was about to shoot a _stupefy _at me until Sable put up a shield between the two of us.

"LAZZARO! You _do not_ ever shoot a spell at your _sister_! Are you out of your mind?"

He sat sulking in his chair; arms crossed and chin down, glaring up at her. His wand was tucked away under his arm. The shield between us slowly fizzled. He really did look like a spoiled prince sitting on his throne right then. Merlin help us all.

"It's fine, _Mum_. It just a stupid, little spell—I didn't even hit her. You know she would've done the same thing to me if she was strong enough to be able to use magic. It's not my fault she would've started crying if she tried to perform the spell you just did."

"I would not start crying. At least I'm not such a coward I would attack a defenseless opponent. Also, grow up. I was teasing you about a past girlfriend, not insulting your talents." I reluctantly admit he was absolutely extraordinary in Potions.

Scoffing, he slowly stood up and leaned over the table towards me. "A few points I want to bring up. One, I heard you whining in your room when you tried to _accio _your brush—pathetic, really.

"Two, _coward_? I'm not a Gryffindor, Liora. You shouldn't force their disgusting traits onto me.

"And three, had you insulted me, a weak little shield spell wouldn't have stopped me from using an Unforgiveable on you."

There was a quick jerk in my chest cavity, a sensation that was comparable to my heart spasming from being electrocuted. My eyes were starting to sting, an indicator I was going to cry. I lashed out, a reactionary action.

"Lazzaro, I should tell you, bestiality is a sin. Now I don't want to even think about the things you did with Parkinson, so I won't even divulge in the idea. So, please spare the details."

I heard a gasp behind me; it was Archana who was staring at me in absolute horror. After the initial rush of retaliating anger faded, I realized my jab had definitely crossed a line.

My brother's look truly terrified me. It was close to pure hate, but there was something that barricaded his complete loath. What also terrified me was, with that look on his face, he could've easily fit in a graveyard with a devilish mask on, watching the supposed savior get tortured while the tormentor of our world rose out of a cauldron of blood and bones.

Lazzaro very carefully stepped away from the table. He gently laid a hand on the back of the chair, suddenly slamming it forcefully into its place. It bounced away from the ledge of the table and sat at an annoyingly askew angle Archana distractedly went over to fix once he was away from the table.

He walked up to me and I thought he was physically going to attack me. "A _sin_, Liora? Only those filthy Muggles believe that. You will never bring up anything Muggle in my presence again. If you do, I will not hesitate to use an Unforgivable on you. Depending on how much you irritate me, I'll have to choose the right Unforgivable accordingly." He blew in my face grossly and stomped out of the room.

Sable suddenly decided to reanimate at that moment. "That's it, Lazzaro! You're not going to Diagon Alley anymore. And you better not think about using magic anymore this summer—I'll have the Trace put on you by this afternoon. Just wait until your father deals with you!" Normally, my mother was very capable of being intimidating and carrying out a meaningful, effective threat. Now, her words were hollow. I knew Lazzaro would still be going to Diagon Alley with us today and would continue to use magic past this afternoon. My mother's control no longer applied to him. That Mark on his arm inflated his arrogance to a dangerous level.

I turned toward her, waiting for some kind of comfort. "Liora," she began. "I—I don't know how to react to this. It is very clear to me you provoked him, and your comments were completely inappropriate. However, I am sorry he tried to use magic on you. I also promise he will _never_ use an Unforgivable on you. He will be dealt with accordingly once your father gets home." I was always angry when she forced her mixed emotions onto me. She was angry at me, but she wasn't.

I sighed with difficulty. "Mother, I'm sorry, but how exactly are you going to punish him? Anything he does now seems to be out of your realm of control. That Mark empowered him and makes him think he can justify anything he does. Like hurting Muggles—" My words cut off with a sharp intake of painful breath.

Like an Ice Age came over the kitchen, my mother froze, a hand halfway to her face. Archana stiffened jerkily with plates in her hand she was bringing to the counter. Even Saba and Daky—one of our other house elves—barely stopped themselves from dropping levitating silverware onto the floor. I iced over, my face, I'm sure, very round in the eyes and mouth. I had slipped too many times today for my speech to have been an accident.

Eventually, the shock melted away to unnervingly still anger.

Towards me, a hand was raised by Sable. She pointed at me with a shaky finger. "You need to stop this. This obsession with Muggles. Never, _never_ again will you bring them up. Do you understand me, Liora? Going against that Mark on your arm will lead to very steep consequences on your part. And I will not be able to do anything about it. I _never_ want to hear you doubt the Dark Lord again. _Never_. It is too dangerous. Because, if they find out, your actions will be unforgivable."

I nodded quickly and tried to offer her a smile, mostly to cover up the impending tears. The calm anger was always the worst. At least if she yelled, I could yell back and dispel some of my emotion.

Sable's anger collapsed into weariness. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go get ready for Diagon Alley. You're definitely not wearing your pajamas there. You too, Archana. Be ready by ten." She swept out of the room in her usual dramatic way, letting us know we could get up and do what we were supposed to.

Archana and I awkwardly locked eyes for a second before she shifted her gaze down to the floor. I copied her motion when she went back to look at me again.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I could really use some chocolate ice cream from Florean Fortescue's. Right?" I trailed off more awkwardly than when we were avoiding eye contact. I sometimes forgot silence was golden, even an awkward one.

"Liora, just…why do you have to be so difficult?"

I shrugged and grinned. "I guess it's just who I am."

Nodding Archana, sighed to the point where I had to keep myself from scoffing. "Liora, please just try and act like the rest of us. I don't want to see what happens when you're caught for being different."

This separation bothered me. Even among pure Slytherin or Gryffindor families, a single trait from the rival House was potentially fatal. Because I didn't want to go out and kill Muggles for no reason was enough to pit myself against my entire family, all my friends, and everyone I stood with.

That was a problem.

That was an Unforgivable problem.

**A/N: Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to leave a review about anything. Criticism is eagerly accepted. J**

**Moon Lantern: First Review—Thank you for being the first person to review! Thank you so much for seeing potential in my story! And I've been busy, so I haven't been able to check out your story, but I will soon. **

**Second Review—Thank you again for reviewing! And yes, I knew Liora wouldn't have been able to completely agree to being a Death Eater. She couldn't have done that to herself. Also, the loop hole mentally offers her a technical way out, in case she needs one. And this is actually the year the Half-Blood Prince takes place. Liora will be a fifth year and she is a year younger than her brother, who is the same age as Draco and Harry. And as for their last name, I'm not sure what nationality it is. I can't be certain if I made it up or recalled it from somewhere. Lastly, thank you for the correction of Durmstrang's location. I just assumed because Trent is from Romania, which is close to Bulgaria which is where Krum was from, he would've gone to Durmstrang. Finally, I am absolutely enthralled you think my story will be great! Hope you stick with me! I promise lots of adventure and excitement! **


	5. The Alleys

**I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER. I LIORA, HER FAMILY, AND TRENT ARE MY CREATIONS. HOPE YOU ENJOY! IT WOULD BE REALLY GREAT IF YOU COULD REVIEW—BAD, GOOD, ANYTHING. **

**Chapter 4—The Alleys **

Because I was forbidden to wear any type of Muggle clothing, I was forced to wear tauntingly sweaty robes. Although the fabric was a type of sheer, thin silk, the billowing, magenta layers still managed to stifle my skin, causing it to feel hot and prickly, disgusting sweat coating me. Today was such a balmy day; I could see the wisps of heat that curled like fog in the sunlight. It was a kind of day that should be spent inside, lying on the cold tile of my bedroom floor, but in the space near my window, still enjoying the heat of the sunlight. Our normally house was quite useful in the summer. It was unbearable in the winter.

Even with my hair swooped up into a ponytail, the nape of my neck was already damp. I delicately touched my forehead, moist.

Sighing, I thought again of Lazzaro. The fights we had were always severe, and blown terribly out of proportion. He was easy to anger and I was easy to provoke. In school, we at least got some distance between us. At home, Archana was supposed to be our peacekeeper, but she was too scared to intervene in our fights—especially ones that ended in us throwing a few spells. Sable did not know we had gotten in duels before. The only difference in the one we had just had, Lazzaro had never threatened me with an Unforgivable. And, I was normally able to defend myself.

These Dark Marks were already ruining us.

Pulling open the door to the hallway, I stepped out and shut it behind me. A soft thud carried through the cavernous, vaulted ceilings. Our home was not as ornamented as the Malfoy's, it was barer. My mother found tapestries and statues to be tasteless and distracting. Our house was minimal in furniture, which was surprisingly simplistic.

Our most decorated room was the foyer, which held stained glass window above the doorway, which was beautiful in theory, but not in practice. It was mostly a reddish color, with rigid, and startling black shards forced into the shape of figures kneeling or quivering on the ground. Above them all, there was a golden figure distinctly holding a wand. From far away, the colors were brilliant. Up close, it was horrifying to anyone with a heart, something I was not allowed to have.

I believed I was beginning to harp to the point where the complaints in my mind were starting to irritate me. This Mark on my arm bound me to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. If I had wanted help, I should've done it before my fate had been sealed. Running would only cause me doom. Also, running would be seen as completely spontaneous and impulsive. Slytherins were calculating and cold. I'd played my part well enough until recently. It was fatally imperative I did what I was supposed to and shut up with my real opinion.

I didn't believe it, but I told myself I was going to build an armor of all things Slytherin and Death Eater to protect my true self. I would still keep my beliefs and constantly feed them to make sure they stayed strong. However, only I would know about them. I would rebel against Voldemort in my own secret way. As long as I played my part well, he would have to reason to perform legilimency on me. Another strange fact, I had mastered legilimency, but not occlumency.

I had my wand tucked in my pocket. It had seared my Mark when I had picked it up to put it in my pocket. More importantly, I made sure my Mark was covered. My sleeves were yanked down as far as they could reach when I sighed at the ridiculousness of wearing long sleeves in the climax of the summer.

Looking around, I quietly searched for my deranged brother, by-standing sister, or my mother who was detached in a perplexing way. She seemed to care about what she did, but there was always something bothering her at the wrong time. Her thoughts were not convenient. She'd been getting lazy lately and I'd peeked a few times. Her thoughts were strained and forced. They were hard to read, but I had been able to sense their tone.

Briskly marching towards the fireplace, I grabbed a handful of powder from the cauldron on the mantle and sifted it through my hands. I had the sudden urge to throw it into Lazzaro's face. Who did he think he was, threatening me with an Unforgivable?

When I threw the powder down around my feet, I felt the heatless flames licking at the edges of my sleeves and the hem of my skirt. I had done this countless times, but my mind seemed to be too preoccupied to generate the right location into words. "DIAGON ALLEY!" I yelled loudly, surely alerting any of my family members I was leaving. And what a strange location, too. We _always_ went to Knockturn Alley before Diagon. That was just how we did things.

I stumbled out of the fireplace, coated in ash which I coughed out of my lungs. The floor I thudded onto was a black onyx, glistening as if there were stars embedded in it.

_Oh no. _I slowly lifted my head up a groaned. All around me rickety and rotting wooden shelves were lined in haphazard designs. Those backless shelves were overflowing with vials and jars of strange objects, all in different sizes, colors, textures, and states. Along one wall were black cauldrons, arranged by price, size, and thickness. I was in the blasted Apothecary. This store only furthered the reminder of my humiliating potion skills that I couldn't help but laugh at sometimes. Of all places in Diagon Alley, _here? _Surely, if Archana or Lazzaro were to come here they would end up in as ironic places as I. Archana would stumble out of the fireplace of the Magical Menagerie where she would have to face…_animals._ During mail days, she would duck under the table while owls bombarded us with our letters and packages. Since Lazzaro had a supposed justified fear of reading and learning, he would end up in Flourish and Blotts.

I spun around, getting lost in the shelves. This store was so disorganized, I had difficulty finding the exit. When I did, I barreled toward it, accidentally bumping into an ostentatious old man who laughed at me gaily. "Well, excuse you, miss." His voice had a very strange quality to it, like he had to force himself to be happy.

"Pardon me," I called to him, but then stopped when he called for me.

"Wait! Wait a moment!"

Grudgingly, I rolled my eyes away from him and turned to him, an eyebrow raised. "Pardon?" I asked.

He set the vial of purple crystals back into its holder on the shelf. I had no idea what it was for. "I couldn't help but notice you come out of that fireplace. You looked surprised, like it was the first time you've ever Flooed."

I shook my head, distractedly. "No, no. I just don't usually end up in _here_."

Chuckling, he placed a hand over his rotund stomach and ran the fingers of his other hands across the surfaces of various jars. He looked absolutely ecstatic. "Isn't this place just _wonderful? _I haven't been here in quite some time, but I _must_ say, I've forgotten how _marvelous_ it was."

"Uh-huh," I offered, stiffly.

"Don't you agree?" There was a hopefulness in his eyes, like his state of happiness depended on my answer. Sorry to let him down.

"I can't say I do. I'm not particularly fond of Potions, and I am definitely not the best at it."

"Nonsense!" He called, waving his arms around. One of his hands almost smacked me in the face.

"Oh sir, I you could see me—" I began cynically.

"Pish posh! I assume you're a student at Hogwarts? You look about the age."

I backed away. It was a mistake to talk to this man. He was a creepy lunatic who needed to be shipped off to St. Mungo's. Even if my arm hurt when I used magic, that would not stop me from doing it on this man. Right now, an _aguamenti _spell could blow him up.

"That's not really—"

"I should introduce myself. I am Horace Slughorn, new Potions Master at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He thrust out his hand toward me.

"Potions _what?" _Snape had been the teacher for as long as I could remember. There was obviously a teacher before him, but Snape was _the _Potions teacher. Let someone I hate teach a subject I hate.

There were several explanations. Either Snape had quit—unlikely—or he had taken a new position. And the obvious position that was open was Defense Against the Dark Arts which that pink, stuffed warthog had previously filled before she got dragged off by a horde of centaurs.

My least favorite teacher teaching my favorite subject. Curse you Merlin.

"That's right. It looks as though I'll be your teacher. What's your name?"

Ehh, what would it hurt? Maybe if I got off on the right foot now, Potions this year could literally be painless.

Smiling brightly, I stuck out my hand. "Liora Cavyon. Fifth year. Slytherin."

He nodded jovially, pleased at my peppy reaction. "Ahh! A Cavyon! I had your father. Also, I remember he had a younger sister…Ottilie? Am I correct?"

I nodded hesitantly at the mention of my aunt. He didn't notice it.

"And a fifth year? That means OWLs. Don't worry, with my teaching, you'll do splendidly on your OWLs. An _O _for sure. Also, I must add, I used to be the Slytherin Head of House back in my glory days." First, I was royally screwed if this man was going to teach me potions. Two, his glory days must've been near a hundred years ago. Lastly, this man seemed he would be more appropriate as the Hufflepuff Head of House.

"Yes, well, I look forward to this year then—"

"Wait, before you go, tell me, do you have any siblings? I would love to meet them."

I hissed in frustration. "Yes. A fourth year sister and a sixth year brother. Look, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must be going. I have places I need to be." Albeit, there were places I wanted to be, I did not _need _to be there.

"And their names?" He batted his eyelashes at me, expectantly.

"My brother is Lazzaro and my sister is Archana. Cavyon. Really I must be—"

"Splendid! Well, I'm afraid I must adjourn this little meeting. It was a pleasure to meet you, Liora Cavyon. I cannot wait to have you in my class. Maybe I'll even see you before the school year starts." He winked at my and disappeared a few aisles over.

Although that man seemed harmless, I still felt uncomfortable at some of his provocative clauses. But even more than that, he was _irritating._ Oh Snape, _please _replace this man as our teacher.

Once I had broken away from the hellhole, I squinted my eyes, immediately feeling the effects of the ruthless heat and the merciless sun. The heat on its own was stroke inducing, but all around me, I was packed claustrophobically by different people. Some were dressed like me, while others were wearing shorts and t-shirts. I jealously glared at them.

The tolerance and mixture here was amazing. Muggles could walk around freely—well as long as they knew a wizard—without being threatened. I'd seen a Muggle mother of a Hogwarts student wander into Knockturn Alley on accident once. The wizard who had spotted her was now locked up in Azkaban.

One building in particular stood out among others. It was bold and daring, with an animatronic ginger waving mechanically. _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. _Of course. The ginger twins had advertised this last year near the end of Umbridge's rein. They had disrupted the fifth year OWLs. Now if only they could disrupt my Potions OWLs…

This place would be too open for any Death Eater to be. I doubted there would be any Slytherins in that place, considering it was as good as a temple of the damned.

Tentatively, I slunk my way through the crowd, trying to keep my face low, in case there was a rival classmate that would not be pleased to see me.

Once I got to the doors, they opened automatically, similar to the brilliance of sensor doors for Muggles…those disgusting Muggles. Also, there was an arctic blast that was completely refreshing.

As soon as I got over the initial rediscovery of cool air, I realized this was a mistake. Literally covering every square inch of the store were Hogwarts students. I saw Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. No Slytherins. Add to that, all of them were wearing Muggle clothes. Jeans, gym shoes, _short sleeved shirts_. I wished I could bare my arms. However, my school education would be over and my future infinitely shattered.

It would be cliché to say the talking stopped, but it did for about a second. Then, it picked back up again, as soon as some people realized who I was. Mostly those from my grade who spread the news that there was a snake among the ravens, lions, and badgers.

There truly was power in numbers. And right now, I had none.

Lifting my chin up like my mother taught me too, I tried to appear aloof as I walked through the store, touching trinkets and them putting them back in place. This store truly was amazing…

"Liora?" That didn't take long at all.

Someone moved out of the way, and I saw a sea of red heads. The girl— Weaslette, as most Slytherins, especially boys like to call her—stared at me in confusion. Thankfully, there was no accusation.

"Ginny, which Cavyon is that?" A taller girl, a brown haired girl next to Ginny whispered in her ear.

"The one in my grade," she whispered loudly. It took me a moment, but I recognized the girl. Her name was Hermione Granger Know-It-All-Extraordinaire. She was a Muggle-bor—Mudblood, a year above me. Merlin, her shrill voice gave me a headache.

Ginny stared at me, unsure what to say. I never taunted her like the others in my grade had done. We had only spoken once, when she asked me what page in our History of Magic textbooks we were on a few years ago. She seemed nice enough, wasn't obnoxious like Granger.

Then I saw three more distinctions in the red hair. It was the twins and Ron, who was also a grade ahead of me—I knew him to be the most hostile towards Slytherins.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cavyon? Knockturn Alley is the other way." I knew he was blunt, but especially to someone who had never even talked to him? I raised my eyebrows at him. That was harsh and a bit rude. He was one of the ones who grouped all of us Slytherins together and acted against all of us with malice. I suppose it wasn't his fault, since most of us deserved it. It still stung slightly that he was singling me out, like he had a personal vendetta against me. I didn't do that to Gryffindors, even though I probably should start.

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes at him. "Just being the hell here."

One of the twins liked that. He snorted and gave me a smile. It wasn't exactly friendly, but it was still a smile. The other one bumped his shoulder and nudged his head towards me.

"You lost Slytherin?" One of them asked me softly. I liked them. They weren't quick to judge.

I shrugged. "Maybe. I just figured it wouldn't hurt to look around." Oh yes it could.

The twins nodded simultaneously, unsure of what else to say. That was as good as a compliment as they could get from me. I wanted to tell them what I truly thought of this place, but for my safety, I couldn't.

"Alright, well enjoy yourself…I guess." The two then walked away.

Ron had dragged Granger away and Ginny had disappeared when I wasn't looking. Finally, everyone seemed to be involved in their own affairs instead of focused on me.

I picked up a fake wand, which looked impressive. Trying a _stupefy_ with one of them, the stick limpened into long strings of confetti. It still worked better than my wand did. When I placed the wand back on the shelf, it reshaped itself into a wand. It must've been a special kind of surface that turned it back to its original shape. Bloody cool.

Lifting up my arm, I brushed a frizzy curl out of my face, and turned, almost whacking someone in the head. "Sorry…" I muttered, and then trailed off, realizing who it was.

Harry Potter.

He didn't say anything to me, just stood frozen. What is really that much of a shock for a unanimous Slytherin to come into a random shop? Although, I knew I wasn't unanimous anymore. This boy was my mortal enemy now. My main purpose in life was to now make sure this boy was killed and all causes in his name against Voldemort were destroyed. That thought began rocking my gut.

He was just a boy.

_No. _He was the enemy, but he was still just a boy.

We stared at each other for a moment, two foes that still had to sit tableside in the Great Hall and act as if nothing was wrong.

I flung down my arm, realizing my mistake. I had gone to brush the hair out of my face with my left hand and my sleeve had slipped. He had seen my Dark Mark. He _had_ to have seen it.

Continuing to stare at me, he backed away until he crashed into a shelf of laughing jack-in-the-boxes that exploded when you opened them. That was a seemingly useless prank, but still brilliant.

With one last look at me, he ran away. So did I.

Towards the stairs, I bustled down them at a quick pace, tripping over my skirt several times. Damn these robes. I would burn them as soon as I got home I swear—wait, I couldn't. That would be a sign of my Muggleness, an unwillingness to dress in the fashion of Purebloods.

Once I was on the first floor, I saw Ginny standing near the entrance like she was waiting for me. Potter must have told her. Now she was going to perform a spell on me and then wait until the Aurors came to pick me up and take me to Azkaban. I believed I just broke the record for the youngest Death Eater—and general wizard—in Azkaban and the shortest lived Death Eater ever. It had only been a day an already I had been caught. I knew I shouldn't have been afraid. Technically, I had the divine duty to wreak havoc on Potter supporters, but doing it alone and without some sort of identity protection was dangerous. They would know where to find me. For Merlin's sake, Sable worked at the Ministry. They'd be able to track me down easily.

"I guess I'll see you at school," Ginny said weakly. She offered a small wave before turning around and walking towards the cash register where one of the twins was standing, ringing up a small child's floating _thing_.

"See you," I muttered to no one.

Safely out of that condemning place, I welcomed the heat this time. I had started to chill and my arms had gotten cold; the Mark felt like it was covered in ice. It was so much more attuned to touch. It was almost delicate, really. The skin affected by the ink would sting when I accidentally brushed it—I never intentionally touched it. Evil radiated from it.

I blindly stumbled my way through the crowds, thinking about Potter's face when he had seen me. It was absolute terror—so much for a Gryffindor. However, he did truly embody Gryffindor, but he was almost too good, too ideal. I always got the dark notion from him that he had the ultimate secret, dark enough to shatter the earth. And the way he acted, I thought he didn't know about it. Everyone knew he had a direct connection to Voldemort—yet, how were they connected? Voldemort had tried to kill him, and Potter had somehow survived as a damn baby. How? Voldemort shouldn't have come back…

Potter had destroyed him because Voldemort tried to destroy him. Voldemort used Potter to come back. If Potter died, then Voldemort would have power. If Voldemort died, Potter would have to be the one to do it. What would happen if both of them died? Would they cancel each other out? If they could destroy each other simultaneously, then Voldemort would have no way to come back. At least I was thinking along some lines of killing Potter. Gruesome lines that involved Potter somehow sacrificing himself to kill Voldemort. From what I had heard, he'd be willing to do that.

I had the desire go back into there and ask him if he would be willing to kill himself after he killed Voldemort—I couldn't be planning against Voldemort. I _had _to stop. I kept moving, trying to keep my mind from doing so.

The setting got gloomier and the crowds thinned once I crossed the threshold into Knockturn Alley. I immediately relaxed at the disturbing familiarity. The buildings here were made of darker brick, awnings sadly drooping, while most storefronts stood bare, and no elaborate signs to mark them.

Clustered in front of an unmarked building face, I recognized some darkly shrouded figures. They were huddled in a circle, and whispering like little first and second year girls did. There were two older Death Eaters, Yaxley and Dolohov. A man standing between the two of them lifted his head up slightly, causing me to jump back, covering my mouth in shock. Underneath the black hood was a gray faced _thing_. There was hair covering his face, but it was the face of a man, some features shifted to look like an animal. He was stuck between a werewolf and a man. It was Fenrir Greyback. Even my father was distrustful of him. Danton called him an unstable, yet needed asset for Voldemort. The only problem was, he had no acclaimed allegiances. This was my first time seeing him. He was frighteningand unmistakable.

Two smaller figures shifted around. I recognized them. It was Trent Hallenzing and my damn brother. What the hell was he doing here with them? I didn't want them to see me.

When I was moving to turn away someone noticed me and gripped my robes. I was thrown through the group, against the glass window of the storefront. I groaned, surprised the glass didn't shatter against my back.

The arm pinning me to the glass was hairy and thick. I could feel the bristles of fur on the fingers, brushing the back of my neck. I shivered at the gross man grinning into my face with sharp and yellowing teeth, they were definitely more canine than human. His breath wafted towards my nostrils, smelling like a rotting carcass. I didn't know what his diet was, but I was guessing raw meat from his putrid breath. An instinctive shot of fear was rooting itself inside of me. Fight or flight, right?

"What a delectable young lady. You lost? Diagon Alley is the other way, sweetheart. I would love to show you the way. Excuse me." With a tight grip on my arm, he began to pull me through the group. My eyes widened. Other tales of him I'd heard from my father—he liked to take his victims to secluded areas and then bite them. I tried to pull away.

"Let me _go!" _I yelled, beginning to thrash.

"Wait, wait!" Lazzaro started to tug on my other arm, once Greyback was clear out of the circle. It was nice to see my brother cared about me enough to not want me to be turned into a werewolf. He wasn't threatening me with an Unforgivable for once.

"_What_, Cavyon?" The wolfman hissed. The grip on the back of my robes was tightening.

"This is Liora Cavyon, my _sister_," Lazzaro informed viciously. Greyback eyed me in the face, as if he were trying to see some bearing of resemblance between the two of us. Some people said there was some, but it was very minimal, much like Archana and me. Archana and Lazzaro were more alike.

"She's one of us." While saying that, my brother yanked up my left sleeve for Greyback to see. I cringed at revealing my Mark to another. Lazzaro's ease at doing so frightened me. At least the grip on the neck of my robes was gone.

Greyback took a minute step back, so that he was no longer a part of the circle, just real members of the Dark Lord. I decided then he was a coward. This Mark on my arm scared him. If I ever met him again, I would remind him of that Mark. This was my power over him. For the first recognizable time, I was grateful for this Mark.

Not losing his appalling confidence, Greyback extended a wooly hand to me while smiling savagely. I reluctantly held my right hand out to me. Instead, he grabbed my left arm suddenly, finger tracing over the Mark…maybe not as useful as I thought.

"Let _go," _I growled lowly, wrapping my right hand around his beastly one. My fingers dug into his skin at the feel of his coarse hair.

"Fenrir, let the girl go," Dolohov spoke up, anxiously reaching for his wand. Along with Yaxley, the two had gone to school with my father. They were in the same year and House. "She's one of the newest members. The Dark Lord will not be pleased to have half-breeds in his ranks." I scoffed in disgust when the wolfman dropped his hand.

"You hurt me, Antonin. You cut me real deep. Like the claw marks on this girl's face could be. Just imagine that. Blood dripping down her pale skin, bright red and warm—"

"Stop it! Get out of here!" Trent was the one that had said that. He removed his wand from his robes and waved it in a strange movement. A clear ripple effect blasted Greyback backwards, sending me to the ground from the toppling power of his grip. Going further, he thudded painfully into a brick wall.

Utterly shocked, my head slowly rotated to look at Trent, who was glaring at Greyback with a horrible, Death Eater look on his face. His wand was gripped in his left hand—before, he had been right handed, I remembered that. He was only thirteen and he had just performed cantated magic. More importantly, what spell _was _that?

"I see. This girl is off-limits. I understand. There'll be others." Greyback stood up and slinked into the darker parts of the Alley where he belonged, a roach of the earth. His self-reassurance of there being other girls made me think of Archana, and how one day he might run into her—in some unlikely scenario—like he did to me. At least I wasn't alone. He would stay away from my sister, or he would get is worse than he had by Trent.

"Thank you, Trent," I said to him. I wanted to lay a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but he was too tensed up. He probably would've shot a spell at me if I did. He was manic.

"I'll, um, take him home then. Hallenzing, let's go." Yaxley snapped his fingers at Trent. The boy suddenly collected himself and nodded curtly at the man. He tucked his wand away and turned towards me.

"You're welcome, Miss Cavyon, hopefully I'll be seeing you soon." I smirked slightly at that. It was adorable to see a little kid call me that like I was much older than him. Well, I suppose not that _little_ of a kid.

"I'll see you, Dolohov and Cavyon at the next meeting." He then left after Yaxley. We were slowly dwindling in numbers.

"Liora, are you alright?" Dolohov bent down and gave me a concerned look. He and my father had been good friends. He'd been there practically my whole life as a type of uncle. How was he a Death Eater? How was anyone?

I nodded confidently. "Yes, I think so. It was just a surprise to see Greyback. I didn't expect him to look like _that. _I suppose it's a good thing Trent was there. That was quite an impressive spell for a thirteen year old."

Dolohov straightened himself up and nodded. "Well, if that's all, I need to be going. I need to track down Greyback and talk to him. Lazzaro, are you going to stay with her?"

My brother nodded and said goodbye to our family friend. I decided then, Death Eaters were likable. Maybe all other people were misjudging them. No one else seemed to realize Death Eaters had families and people they cared for.

"Come on. Sable's worried about you. You should've waited for her," Lazzaro tugged on my arm and then started to walk down the alley, away from Diagon.

After almost tripping over the uneven cobblestone ground, I finally jarred myself enough to ask Lazzaro. "What exactly were you doing with them? Greyback, I mean."

"Dolohov owled me this morning asking if I wanted to meet Greyback. He sent the same thing to Malfoy, Hallenzing, and Sax—Malfoy and Sax couldn't make it. I just figured why not?" I noticed neither Archana, Lorraine, or I were invited.

"Any why is he such a valuable asset to the Dark Lord?"

Lazzaro smirked darkly. "His ruthlessness, obviously. The only problem is, he has a hard time controlling himself around women. Madam Lestrange is the only woman that can handle him. Other than that, he's willing to carry out things that Death Eaters can't do."

"Like biting children," I grumbled.

"As long as he's biting Mudbloods, Blood Traitors, or Muggles, who cares?"

Slowing his pace, Lazzaro studied my face. He was trying to see if I would slip up. Surely he wouldn't hesitate to _crucio_ me this time if he did spot a crack in my mask.

"Good riddance, I say. Those disgusting creatures deserve that at the least." I tried hard to convince myself I believed that.

"Right? I can't believe we have to share that school with _Mudbloods._ Hopefully, there will be change this year, now that Voldemort has some students in his ranks." Lazzaro seemed eerily content talking about the destruction of our classmates. Yet again, who was I to criticize? I had plotted having Potter kill himself to prevent Voldemort from returning again. Was it really any different?

As we walked, I spotted a bright, blonde head in Borgin and Burkes. I stopped. "Is that Malfoy?" I pointed through the glass. He was there with Narcissa, looking like he was arguing with whichever store namesake it was.

"I think so. That's strange. He said he wasn't going to meet me by Knockturn's entrance ntil eleven. It's almost that time." Lazzaro started walking towards the door, reaching for the knob.

I recognized the hostility in the room. Malfoy's arms were flailing animatedly while Narcissa stood quietly off to the side, staring at a cage of what looked like it held a petrified bird. It wouldn't be wise or polite to interrupt whatever was going on in there…amazing, I was beginning to sound like my rational mother with this irrational blemish.

"Lazzaro, leave them be. Malfoy looks busy. Let's go find Sable and Archana."

He huffed, but agreed.

Sighing, I decided to try out a conversation between the two of us. "Guess where you go if you accidentally Floo to Diagon Alley."

"That was a careless mistake to Floo there. Why is that Liora? We always Floo to—"

"The Apothecary. I appeared in the Apothecary." It took Lazzaro a moment to catch the irony, but he appreciated once he did.

"How unfortunate for you that must've been," he snorted.

"And not only that, I met a certifiable goon named Slughorn and learned an interesting piece of trivia. He's our new Potions professor. Snape is no longer teaching Potions."

That, of course, caused Lazzaro to splutter. "What? He's _not_ teaching Potions? What is happening?!"

"I was assuming he was going to teach DADA. Everyone knows he's wanted that job for years. Not to mention now that _Ugh_bridge is gone, that's the only class with an opening. This is just fantastic for me. My favorite subject and my least favorite teacher."

"If you recall correctly, we've never had a DADA teacher for more than one year. That means Snape won't be teaching when I'm a seventh year—that damn jinx." Lazzaro continued to rant while I grinned at him. It was so pathetic for him to get upset over the placement of his favorite teacher. Personally, I was relieved Snape would only be around for one more year.

"What a shame," I sighed in sarcasm. Lazzaro shot me an upset glare.

"Oh what? You only have two more years of school left. You'll be fine. Speaking of which, what are you planning on doing after you're done with school?"

"Are you serious?" Lazzaro scoffed.

"What?" I asked, dumbly.

"Become a fulltime Death Eater. Why? What are _you_ hoping on being?"

I scoffed, hoping to cover my slip—_again._ "I meant specifically. A Death Eater _obviously_. I was thinking of being a reporter for the Daily Prophet and writing propaganda for the Dark Lord. Or maybe I can infiltrate the Ministry form within and corrupt it." Both were stretches for me my creative brain had on hold for when I needed them.

Lazzaro sighed tiredly. "Liora, you slipped again. This _isn't _propaganda. _We_ aren't the corrupt ones. You really need to get a grip on this before school starts. You need to work on your loyalty. Like I said earlier, doubting the Dark Lord is dangerous. You shouldn't even be thinking thoughts against him. It also might not hurt you to brush up on your occlumency a bit." I was surprised he didn't snap at me. This was exactly what had happened earlier in the kitchen.

I nodded along with him. But the usual thoughts were bombarding my mind, threatening my safety.

How could _my_ brother believe that? My family?

Anyone?

How come I couldn't?

**That's it! I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it. If so, I would love to hear a review. If anyone has any problems with it, I would also like to hear what you have to say. **

**Moon Lantern: You rock! Thank you for continuing to review. I have started to read your story and it is great! I really enjoy Gallardo's personality. I'll post a review shortly. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!**


	6. Redemption of the Damned

**Chapter 5—Redemption of the Damned **

I was thrown awake, like someone was using a spell to lift me off the bed. Arching painfully, my hand burrowed beneath the fabric of the nightgown I wore to my back. The vertebrae were indistinguishable, creating a deep ridge that throbbed with pain. There was lighting encasing my bones.

The screams that ripped from convulsing lungs were still lesser than the _hell _radiating from the damned Mark. It glowed neon red, my blood lighting on fire. It was like magma flowing through my veins, instead of rooted in the deep cracks of the earth where it belonged. This pain had to be worse than a _cruciatus _curse. Unless someone had snuck into my room at night to perform one on me. Potter had probably told his precious entourage of Aurors who I was. My parents had daftly never put up any wards to protect this house.

Or, Danton had seriously taken the Dark Lord's word of raising my tolerance of pain. He was just insane enough to do it.

"LIORA?" The call filled the entire room, causing me to wince into the mattress, fingers digging ferociously into wet sheets. The pocks of sweat covering my entire body seemed to pinprick the pain, causing those spots to flare even worse.

"WHAT?" I doubted whoever was calling could set that apart from the other strangled sounds I was producing. I didn't even sound human. That made me scream even longer and louder, knowing I was capable of sounds that belonged to that of a different species. All because of this _Mark_.

When two vices slammed into my shoulders, I jerked upwards, eyelids colliding open.

Archana leaned over me, concentrated splashes of terror and sadness on her face. Her canyon-wide eyes were flooded with two rivers of tears. Her mouth was wide open, emitting high shrieks every few seconds.

Even enveloped in this much pain, all other senses were magnified, heightened. My vision was sharper, smells were more rancid, and noises stabbed my ears with more vigor.

And it was all coming from that damned Mark.

My parents then crashed into the room, Sable fighting past Danton to get to me. She held terror in her eyes, too. She was the one who had yelled my name from somewhere in the hallway. My father gripped Sable's shoulder like a scared child. He _did_ look scared, unsure of what to do.

"Mother! What's going on? What's wrong with her? Liora?" Archana cried, her grip digging into my shoulder. I retaliated by hissing in her face.

"Archana! Let go! You're hurting her!" I watched as Sable came from above and wrestled Archana off me. She took my sister and pinned her across the chest, holding her close. Archana continued to wail, limping forward over Sable's arm.

"Lazzaro! Take Archana out of here." My brother's presence was just noted. He looked terrified, but not nearly as much as our female family members. Nodding shakily at my father's command, he stiffly moved forward and yanked at Archana's arms, dragging her across the floor to the door. She was significantly tinier than him, but he still looked like he was struggling to remove her from the room. Finally, he shoved her out the door and gave me a fearful look before slamming the door behind him.

Instead of reaching towards me, Sable gripped onto Danton, sobbing about what to do. I wrenched my eyes shut at the intimate moment between them, ones that my siblings and I never saw. They didn't even kiss, but the looks they gave each other were so powerful, they seemed to forget I was there right then, even with my screams. For a second, they probably wouldn't have noticed if the world turned on its side. That was the kind of love I hoped for myself one day. That one look proved to me there was a reason to living outside all this Death Eater rubbish. I could think that as I was being consumed by that rubbish.

For now, I would have to settle with courting tortuous pain.

"Sable," Danton suddenly realized. He began reaching for my seizing arm, which I tried to flail away from him. "It's the Mark. The Dark Lord is calling her."

In response, my mother released her grip on Danton and shook her head ferociously. "No, no, no. That can't be it, Danton. You're not being summoned by the Dark Lord and neither are Lazzaro and Archana. Why would he _just_ summon Liora? And since when does the Mark glow red when one is called?"

"Sable, when the young Death Eaters are first called, the Mark sometimes has certain effects that vary from person to person. Don't you remember what happened with Ottilie when she was called for the first time?"

She growled at her husband. "Liora is _not_ like your sister, Danton! Ottilie was—"

"Sable. She's being called by the Dark Lord."

"Well, how is Liora supposed to know where to go? She can't apparate by herself, and even if she could, she's in no condition to. How is she supposed to see the Dark Lord when she's in this type of pain? You know he won't accept that."

"The Dark Lord is probably at Malfoy Manor. That's become his headquarters for now. And we can't _not_ take Liora to see him. Do you know what would happen to her if she disobeyed that request? The pain will most likely stop once the Dark Lord is finished calling her, when she is there." For once, Danton was the one that sounded reasonable, even if I didn't agree with the stabs of logic.

Cinching the robe around her waist even tighter, Sable huffed. "You take her straight there and you do _not_ leave without her. Don't you dare come back alone. I'm going to check on Archana. Remember, Liora is our _daughter_. Do _not_ leave her there with him."

When it was just my father and me, he reached down and tried to pick me up with one arm, flipping me over his shoulder with a deflating buzz of my chest. The pain continued to incline, but I wasn't screaming anymore. I was crying softly, mostly trying to keep myself breathing.

"It'll get easier," Danton promised as he walked to the fireplace.

In my chaotic state, I still retained the ability to roll my eyes.

I was nudged from my side to lying flat on my back by what I realized was a bone-white foot with gnarled toenails and dirt encased under them. I gagged, almost choking on vomit that was set in my raw throat, now burning with the vulgar taste of acid.

"How nice of you to join us, Miss Cavyon. Surely I didn't interrupt your beauty sleep, did I? If so, I am terribly sorry. The next time I call you, it can be at your leisure." Voldemort had used a spell to lift me from the ground, toes grazing the floor as I levitated around the Dark Lord, turning in slow circles, following his wand point.

"So sorry," I spat sarcastically, unable to move the rest of my body, which was flowing around like water in a stream. I didn't even freeze when I realized my seemingly disrespectful slip. I couldn't.

Voldemort's red eyes slitted even more than they naturally were. "You think you're clever, do you?"

I was suddenly dropped in a painful heap, my head lolling around a few times as I attempted to straighten it and fix my hazy vision. At least the pain from my arm had subsided enough to where I wasn't battling for breath.

"I sensed you would be a difficult one to mold. You may be weak, but I can tell you are headstrong. That is a good trait to have, so long as you use it to _my_ command, not your own. As far as your weakness, that is more of a problem than I originally believed it to be. I can see the toll this Mark is taking on you."

The devil flicked his wand and my arm was once again in pain. I began to scream loudly, my other arm trying to wrap around it, like it would somehow soothe the feeling of being ripped apart from the inside out, starting with the Mark which burned like fire.

"Pathetic. Simply pathetic. Because you are already so weak, I begin to wonder if you are even worth my energy. However, because you are young, I will give you time. That is why you are here. I'm offering you a last chance, even though this is your first one. This is your only chance to prove to me you are a loyal Death Eater." With that, his wand made a slicing motion, and the pain was gone, all lasting aches void. All I felt now was extreme weakness and shakiness. Numbness. I let out a deep sigh, as deep as someone's dying breath would be

"Get up, Cavyon. Join your fellow weaklings at my table." Fellow weaklings? I wasn't the only one?

To even force myself onto hands and knees was a chore, my breathing was already labored, heartbeat spastically thumping.

"If you want to crawl like a dog, then I'll call Greyback to turn you into exactly that. Stand up you pathetic girl, or I'll make you wish you were dead." I was already getting to that stage. I might have beat him to that desire.

I continued to crawl, not even attempting to stand.

With my gaze on the ground, I heard Voldemort utter _crucio. _I shut my eyes tight, not really all that prepared to be hit with it. It couldn't be that much worse than the pain that was in my arm. I couldn't imagine anything worse than that.

My father could have.

Danton started to scream behind me. I realized Voldemort had aimed at my father instead of me. When I dared to look back at Danton, I cried out. He was on the ground, writhing like a waterless fish. It was as though an invisible force was snapping all his joints and bones at once, over and over and over again. His voice sounded like someone was gutting him slowly, cutting each organ away from the others, then shredding them while they were still attached to the inside of him.

"Stop! STOP!" The adrenaline boost I received from seeing my father in pain was enough to force myself upwards. I swayed several times then widened my stance for more balance. "Look! I'm up!"

Voldemort continued to torture Danton for a few more seconds. The green bolt then receded into his wand.

"A weak spot for others. You don't depend on other Death Eaters, Liora. You depend on _me._ Cavyon, go home. I'm done with you." I severely wished he was talking to me.

Having more fear in the Snake Man than Sable, Danton clawed his way over to the fireplace and levitated some powder down to his palm. "Cavyon Property!" He yelled hoarsely, and disappeared in green flames.

His absence made me feel relieved and terrified at the same time.

"Now Miss Cavyon, if you do not sit down in the next three seconds, I'll torture you until the sun comes up. By the time you go to Hogwarts, you'll wish you'd been kissed by a dementor than having to deal with me." I was too scared to try and come up with some counter comment in my head.

Head down, I stumbled towards the table. "Yes sir."

"Better," he hissed, laying his wand on the table so I was pointing. I flinched when I sat down across from it.

I then noticed the other 'weaklings.'

Malfoy and Hallenzing.

They both looked tired, deep, deep bags under their eyes which were droopy and red. Even through their tiredness, they looked as scared as I was. Trent was shaking underneath his too big striped pajamas. Malfoy was wearing black robes, like he had known this meeting was going to take place. Of course. Death Eater Headquarters was his home. How homey.

"Now that complete waste of time is over, I want to begin. Boys, you can thank this young lady here for off-putting your sleep schedules." And he was wasting our time complaining about that.

_You want to rephrase that thought, Miss Cavyon?_

My palms which were spread flat on the table began curling, nails digging into the stone surface. He was _in_ my head. I could _feel _him in there. Since I couldn't push him out or cover up my thoughts, I did an action out of sheer stupidity and fear.

I tried to invade the Dark Lord's head.

It was a fruitless attempt. It was like me trying to turn a brick wall to rubble by repeatedly running at it. I didn't even leave a scratch.

I couldn't sense was he was feeling, but I could see the shock on his face. That was an emotion I had never seen on there. He always seemed to know what was going to happen and why. Cold and calculating. Like a snake.

And at least now, he was out.

Trent and Malfoy were watching with scared confusion that almost seemed like sick entertainment for them.

Like I was still ramming at that brick wall, it started charging back, I realized what I had done.

He was going to _kill_ me. Now.

Snake Man was still, except for his robes, which always seemed to ripple, even when he wasn't moving. There was an almost dopey expression—if one could call it that—on his face as he seemingly tried to process what had happened. Either that, or the most bloody and painful way to make me suffer.

"Oh, Miss Cavyon. You are an interesting case. What should I do with you?

Pathetically, I humiliated myself by falling off the chair and crawled around the massive table so I was by Voldemort's feet. I was too terrified to grimace. "Please. _Please_ forgive me. Don't kill me. Give me another chance. I will _literally _do anything you want me to. I am _completely_ loyal to you." I knew I would be completely ashamed of that cowardly action in a mere few minutes. Was my life really _that_ precious?

"Stand up, girl. Groveling will do you nothing. Sit back down and I will speak again."

He waited until I was back in my chair.

"Now, you are obviously a stupid, idiotic child. You are ungrateful and disobedient. You are weak physically. Your occlumency is horrifying. Your legilimency, however, is…adequate." Shockingly, there was a hint of praise in his voice.

"Well, thank you," I whispered. He wasn't as angry as I believed he would be.

"Yet, you have continually disappointed in the miniscule few days you have been a Death Eater. Greyback mentioned your embarrassing fear of him. Mr. Hallenzing over here mentioned he saw you in a disgusting store run by a family of ginger Blood Traitors."

He said _what?_ He had _seen_ me? Then why the hell had he even bothered to protect from Greyback. As soon as we got to school…

"Don't be too angry, Miss Cavyon. That is the precise reason you are here. In a way, you can thank Hallenzing for informing me so I could come up with your opportunity of redemption." How pointless this redemption would be if I was already damned.

"And what would that be?"

Voldemort retracted. "Watch your tongue girl. Your fear of me obviously does not last long. It doesn't run deep enough. We'll fix that later. Don't you worry." I felt an injection of fear just from him saying that.

Folding his hands delicately, the Dark Lord straightened himself even more. The only way he could've been that straight backed was if his spine was floating, disjointed from his other bones. Like a snake that could unhinge its jaw, that seemed like a likely possibility.

"I will begin with Malfoy. His task may seem the most important, and in some ways it is. I have already sent him blindly on a few little errands to prepare for this task." I wondered if seeing him in Borgin and Burke's had something to do with it.

"My Lord, whatever task that is. I will gladly do it."

"That's good to hear, Malfoy."

"What must I do?" He asked, trying to sound eager. His eyes betrayed his voice.

There was a chilly pause.

Voldemort stared at the boy.

"You must kill your headmaster. You must kill Dumbledore."

There was a frostbiting freeze.

Malfoy paled to a color white I had never seen on a human before. He was literally the color of snow, fresh and clean snow. The color of something innocent.

"Yes…sir," he managed to choke out, a hand reaching for his throat.

"I will give you more information prior to you leaving for school. Don't worry Malfoy, if you do everything you are supposed to, your parents will live." The boy nearly bolted up from his chair, instead, rocking once while he was still sitting.

Voldemort was undoubtedly a monster.

And Dumbledore. Our slightly offbeat headmaster who everyone adored. Including me.

I _couldn't_ let Malfoy kill Dumbledore.

"Young Trent Hallenzing. You will have a task similar to Malfoy's. I want you to kill a Blood Traitor, and two Mudbloods. One from Gryffindor. One from Ravenclaw. And one from Hufflepuff. How you match and decide who your victims are are up to you."

Trent was thirteen! He couldn't kill three people! Especially students. It was worse because his victims were so young.

I _couldn't_ let Trent kill three innocent students.

"Miss Cavyon."

I couldn't even manage a spoken response. I just nodded without looking at him.

"You girl, have a much lighter task compared to the other two. You might think it will be easy, but it may be hard to tell. You must befriend the Weasley girl. Gain her trust, become her confidant and best friend. Her disgusting family is very close to Potter. Through her, you can get to Potter. After you get her to trust you, then you get Potter to trust you. When they let their guard down, you crush them with betrayal. As a bonus, I'll even let you kill the Weasley girl if you so desire to. If you are as loyal as you say, you'll want to end her."

I didn't feel anything for awhile. I was able to get up and bow to Voldemort, nod to the boys, and Floo home.

Sable rotated between questioning me about what happened to Danton and why Voldemort wanted to see me. She would then turn to my father—who look deathly ill, lying across the sofa—and yell at him for leaving at Malfoy Manor alone. After a few rounds of that, Sable said I should get some sleep, that we would have a serious talk in the morning.

Like I had been the one that did something wrong.

Lazzaro tried to stop me in the hallway, his head sticking out his bedroom door. He was angry to know why I had been called and he hadn't.

When I got to my room, Archana was sitting on my bed. Disheveled and sniffling.

She stood up. "That Mark really hurts you, doesn't it?"

I nodded hesitantly.

"I don't like seeing you like that. I wish you didn't have to be a freaking Death Eater. Why does it have to hurt you that bad?" She was crying now.

"Shh," I whispered and pulled her into a hug, my arm aching when it rubbed against hers. "I'll be okay."

I felt Archana shake her head. "No you won't. No you won't."

**OKAY. THAT'S IT! I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. SCHOOL HAS JUST BEEN CRAZY AND I HAD LOTS OF EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES THAT TOOK UP AN UNBELIEVEABLE AMOUNT OF MY TIME. ONCE JUNE ROLLS AROUND, I SHOULD HAVE CHAPTERS OUT MORE FREQUENTLY.**

**AGAIN, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT. LEAVE ME COMMENTS, QUESTOINS, CONCERNS—ANYTHING. SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME AS WELL.**

**HOPE YOU KEEP READING!**

**Moon Lantern: You rock! You really do! Thank you ****_so_**** much for suggesting my story to people. That means a lot that you think it's good enough to share with others. As a fellow writer you can understand that—speaking of which, ****_love _****Part 3 of Gallardo's tale. I hope you keep reading. Your support means a lot : ) **

**VesperLogan12: Hello! I'm glad you're enjoying my story. Thanks for thinking this story deserves more reviews—as the biased writer, I would like to think so too ;). I hope you stick with me. **

**S. J. Iolanthe: Thanks for the advice and thank you for being honest with my writing. I'll admit, I am not a fan of revising—I guess that's pretty obvious—even though it's necessary. And yes, there is some exciting Death Eater stuff going on! Thanks for taking the time to review my story, it makes me really happy.**

**THANKS AGAIN. I'LL SEE YOU GUYS NEXT CHAPTER.**


	7. Slugs and Slags

**Chapter 6—Slugs and Slags**

**JK ROWLING OWNS ALL—ANYTHING YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE IS MINE**

Over the past few years, I had lost the ability to wake up with the sun—something that was a habit when I was younger. I was now doomed sleeping until the sun was directly in the sky—damn the biological stage of my body. That changed when I received the Mark. Either, it had thrown me back into the mentality of a child or flung me ahead to the maturity of an adult. Either way, I was back to rising with the sun—before it even.

Everything was calm. I felt calm because I wasn't in a hurry to pack my trunk and get to King's Cross Station on time. I guessed I had also woken up earlier based on my anxiety for the first day of school. I hadn't felt nervous for the year when we had gotten our supply lists, no shiny prefect badges peeking out from the envelope made me feel even more relaxed and a little depressed. I knew I had no reason to expect to be made prefect, I was about as anonymous as any Slytherin came. Archana and I weren't the big talk like Malfoy and our brother were. My grade of Slytherins was relatively muted compared to others.

The only problem I was facing was what to wear to the train station. Even as a Death Eater, I was still a teenage girl and needed something that I felt proud to wear. Image was important for a Slytherin. So was vanity.

Eventually, I settled for a sleeveless black robe dress with a sheer, tea length skirt. I attempted to wrangle my hair into a low bun and eventually gave up, letting it run wild in the humidity. Hogwarts weather was much milder and my hair would be tamer.

I stared at my reflection more closely, wincing at the roundness of my cheeks. I'd thought I was eating less, but in actuality, I was probably eating a little more than normally—which warranted as _a lot._ I had never been a dainty eater.

For the past month of getting the Dark Mark, I had been waiting for some inevitable change to occur. Whether it's an overwhelming epiphany or even a little boost in confidence, something _positive _would've been nice.

But _no_, life could only get harder for me, not easier_._ Instead, I dealt with constant pains in my left arm, causing me to have to teach myself to use my wand with the other hand. Mirroring the movements for spells and directing the direction of the wand were not spectacularly easy.

Scowling, I suddenly realized I couldn't wear the dress—no sleeves. But, I was not _not_ going to wear it. This was the best thing I could find for the occasion. If I wore any shade of red or even a color close to it, there was a chance I would be mocked by fifth year Slytherins for being such a Gryffindor. Same went for shades of purple and yellow. Wearing green was just pathetic and predictable. I was tired of being stomped on by the little _Slytheriness _prats—namely a few I shared a dorm with. 

It was despicable. Every single year in Slytherin had a handful of insufferable girls that managed to terrorize the entire school _every single year_. They monopolized everything. They were like a cult—how ironic, since in a sense, I was in one.

"Screw them," I huffed. With my left arm, I grabbed a tiny and meaningless silver jewelry box from my vanity top. I held it out on my palm and closed my eyes, focusing sharply. I sucked in a deep breath and picture what I was trying to transfigure. I said the right spell and did the seemingly right movements, trying to remember it was opposite of what I was used to.

There was a slight sting from the Mark, but was pleasantly surprised when I opened my eyes. Sitting on my palm, hanging off the sides, was a heavy silver cuff with snake-like patterns carved into it—how appropriate. It should stay transfigured for at least twelve hours—more than enough time to change into my uniform.

It was long, covering nearly my entire forearm, but it did what it was supposed to do. I contemplated adding a matching one on the other side but that seemed too…warrior for me. I only hoped no one noticed how I normally wore my jewelry on my right arm, not my left. And as long as I stayed away from a few certain Gryffindors, I would be fine.

The next few hours I spent obsessively checking the cuff, making sure the Mark was completely tucked under it and tossing random odds and ends in my trunk. I'm sure most of them were things I would never use. That was what happened when I had too much time on my hands.

Eventually, I got bored of what I was doing and moved to the door next to mine on the left. I pulled it open and saw my sister fumbling around, half awake. She was still wearing her pajamas, but I caught a glimpse of her Mark when she put her hands above her to grab something from a shelf.

"Ready to go back to school?" I asked, staring around her messy room. She was normally organized.

She turned around with a snarl on her face and made a low rumble in her chest, like a growl. I put my hands up in defense, smirking while I did it. "I forgot you weren't a morning person." I chuckled a few times after that.

She turned around and chucked a pillow at me, hitting my face. "Hopefully you'll remember now." She went back to throwing things haphazardly into her trunk. I watched her impassively.

"If you're going to stand there, you might as well do something useful—like helping me pack." I shrugged and started grabbing a pile of clothes on her bed and stuffing it into the trunk.

"Why didn't you pack last night? Don't you normally do that?"

She moved frizzy hair out of her face and glared at me with bloodshot eyes. "I haven't been up to it. Do I _look _like I'm even capable of packing my trunk right now?" I froze at her words. This was beyond a mere dislike for the early hours of the day.

"Your Mark's been bothering you, hasn't it? I thought you were getting better. I saw you do some spells. They looked pretty powerful to me." I said it with a splash of jealousy and a hint of worry.

Archana continued to glare at me. "I feel a little under the weather—that's all. At least I didn't ever cry about it. And at least I can still do spells." She wasn't trying to sound taunting. She was just trying to reassure herself…at my expense. Her jab—whether unintentional or not—did sting. I blamed the Mark.

"It's not good for us." I sounded grave, but shrugged noncommittally. I didn't know who I was planning on fooling.

"It can be if we just accept it. I think that's why I'm feeling like this, because I'm fighting it." She sounded like she just had a revelation.

Her foggy looking gaze snapped towards my face, then the silver cuff. "I don't know what you're doing to yourself, Liora, but it's got to stop. You're really damaging yourself. It's dangerous." That wasn't the first time I'd heard her say that.

I scoffed. "You want to talk about dangerous?" I pointed at my arm and then hers.

Aggravated, Archana threw a shoe against the ground and curled her fingers into fists. I had never gotten scared when she was angry, but I was a smidge terrified. And she rarely got this angry.

"Like it or not _sis, _but we're stuck with these! They're part of us now, so treat it like its part of you."

"Even if I made an oath, I never agreed to this. I don't want this," I muttered.

Archana gripped my shoulders tightly. "Look." She lowered her voice a great deal after she said that. "I'm not thrilled about being a Death Eater—hating it, actually. _But¸_ it's too late now. I figure I may as well embrace it." She let go of my shoulders and moved towards her wardrobe.

Inside it, she grabbed a willowy top and a navy pencil skirt—one of the only types of Muggle resembling clothing we were allowed to have. We could, because my parents were more lax about blood status—believe it or not. Or at least Danton was, surprisingly.

Archana went into her bathroom and came back out, dressed. She searched around for her black kitten heels. I stared at her sheer, see through sleeves.

"Your Mark is showing." I indicated her arm.

"I know," she replied.

"What? You want me to conjure up a matching bracelet for you?" She gave my arm a quick peek and scoffed.

"No thanks. I'm good."

"Are you wearing something over that?" I asked, starting to sound desperate.

"Nope."

"Archana, you can't go around flashing that to people."

Haughtily, she raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm proud to be a Death Eater." I glanced back at her bathroom in confusion, wondering if this was my sister's evil twin who suddenly was excited about being a Death Eater.

"Right. Well, you may be, but the rest of the wizarding world won't agree. You'll be thrown in Azkaban before you even step one foot on the train. And probably the rest of our family as well."

"I don't care."

I realized I had to appeal to her in a way she would accept. "How are you supposed to serve the Dark Lord if you're locked up in Azkaban? I know Slytherins aren't the most enjoyable bunch, but they're sure as hell a lot more pleasant than a horde of dementors."

She finally gave in and replaced the shirt with a long sleeved blouse, which she buttoned up to the collar—it looked too stuffy and uncomfortable. Still, I nodded, smiling lightly.

I sat on top of her trunk while she tried to close it. "You know, most of the Slytherins are complete Pureblood jokes. I say, if you're not serving the Dark Lord, you should be considered a Blood Traitor. It should be more than _just_ being in Slytherin."

"What about Astoria and the rest of the Greengrass'?" I asked. They weren't involved in Voldemort's affairs as far as I knew and she was good friends with Astoria.

"Their mother, Camilla Greengrass, works at the Ministry. She's like Mum. Helping spread the Dark Lord's word from inside. I do prefer if their father was a Death Eater, though." I didn't know how valid that was, so I wouldn't mention that to anyone.

"Okay…" I didn't know what to say to her.

"You're actually speechless for once. Wow. I didn't know you had the ability to shut up," she joked, but I could tell she was slightly serious.

"What is your problem today?" I hissed at her.

"You."

I could think of a million and one reasons of why she would be angry with me, but none of them jumped out as being pertinent at the second. "You want to clarify why?"

"Because," she began in a clipped tone. She sat down on her bed and crossed her leg over the other. "You have somehow managed find a special audience with the Dark Lord. I don't know why he decided _you_ of all people was worthier than the rest of us. So tell me, what makes you so special?"

_"That's_ why you're mad?" After that incident, Archana hadn't brought it up at all. Lazzaro was the one that complained about it constantly.

"Why did _you_ get to meet with him? In the middle of the night, too! What could've been so important that it was only you? I can tell you, you're probably the least worthy out of all of us—"

I pushed myself off her trunk and paced around a few times, feeling hot and sweaty suddenly. She didn't know anything, acting like she did. She was so wound up about it, she was making _me_ angry. I eventually yelled at her to shut up.

"Alright! _That's_ exactly why I met with him. Because I'm 'unworthy' of being a Death Eater. This is my only chance, Archana! Same goes for Malfoy and Hallenzing. And it's all because we showed weakness while we were being branded. I didn't _mean_ to collapse on the ground, but because of that, I have a task to carry out. And if I don't, he'll kill me."

I was expecting a stronger reaction from Archana, like concern for my safety, but instead, she said "oh" in a small, contemplative voice.

_That's it!_ I thought. _That's _all _you're going to say?!_

"And what exactly does this chance mean? What do you have to do?"

"He gave the three of us each a task to complete during the year." I sounded eerily calm.

She nodded. "Do Mum and Dad know what your task is?"

I nodded.

"What did they say about it?"

"Of course they weren't excited, but they knew I had no choice."

"Oh. Does Lazzaro know?"

I shook my head. "No, but he's been trying to get me to tell him."

She looked coyly at me. "Would you tell me?"

Previously to her coming out of the bathroom, I would've told _that_ Archana. Not this tryingly, concerningly flippant and slightly evil Archana. I knew she was trying to mask the pain, and she was doing it extraordinarily well. As in extraordinary, I mean terrifying.

I shook my head slowly. "I don't want anyone to jeopardize it."

Looking shocked, Archana followed that look with a mean stare. She was determined to find out what I was supposed to do. "I don't think you have to worry about me screwing it up. Still. I don't understand why he gave this task to you. Obviously you have a higher chance of screwing it up—whatever _it_ is."

I thought about my surprisingly civil encounter with Ginny Weasley. She had been cordial enough to acknowledge my existence without repulsion. Perhaps befriending her would be easier than I thought. Yet, I'd heard stories of a combination of her temper and her bat-bogey hexes. Apparently she'd put people in the hospital. I knew compared to the Dark Lord, she was a speck, but compared to me, she was probably more powerful than I was, especially the state I was currently in. However, if I did my job correctly, I could get her before she got me.

But, I didn't _actually_ have to kill her, did I? Voldemort said I could if I wanted. Eventually, he would probably command me to do so.

"I think I can handle it. But, thanks for the support, Archana."

I looked up to see her scrutinizing me. "I can tell by the look on your face you don't think you can do this. And you don't want to do it. Liora…I could do it for you." She wanted to win favor with the Dark Lord. This was my only chance to prove that I was worth keeping alive.

"My life depends on this. You obviously don't care about that if you want to take this chance away from me."

She tried to look sympathetic, but she just looked cold. It was a feeble attempt. She drew her eyebrows together slightly and puckered her lips out a little bit, dragging down the corners of her mouth, too. She made her eyes really wide and blinked them rapidly. "Liora, I'm sorry. I just want to be in the Dark Lord's good graces. Of _course_ I care about you. You're my big sister. I love you. But, you know now that being a Death Eater has to be put above everything.

"I'm not saying that I want you to die. And if you did, of _course _I would be sad, but I can't let my grief get in the way of my duty."

This was worse than when Lazzaro threatened to use an Unforgivable on me. Archana was talking to me as if I was already dead. She essentially said she wouldn't care if I died.

I clenched my jaw tightly after capturing a sob bubbling in my chest. I couldn't do anything about the tears, so I would be brief. "Blood only runs so thick for you, I guess."

Archana looked appalled. "Are you suggesting I don't care about blood status?"

"Does that fact that we're a family mean anything to you?"

"Yes, Liora, but—"

"What is happening to you, Archana?" I demanded.

She actually looked genuinely sorry after I said that. "I'm just doing my job, Liora. You should do the same."

"No. You're just evil," I countered harshly and breathlessly.

Steeling her face, Archana stood up from her bed abruptly and moved in front of me. "If that's what it takes to be a good Death Eater, then so be it. And you wonder why I'm talking about you like you're already dead. Keep acting like this, and you'll be dead by the end of your fifth year. Maybe before you even get to take your OWLs."

I slammed the door loudly on my way out and nearly splintered mine when I shut it with a furious flick of the wand.

I didn't take off the cuff but I glared at the Mark underneath it. Before when I said it was ruining us, I didn't think it could possibly get any worse than this. Both of my siblings were succumbing to the evil reality of being a Death Eater. Yet, I was still fighting it. We had all been raised the same way, believing in blood status and Slytherin. However, our parents had never openly advocated supporting Voldemort to us. I knew they did to the rest of the public, but not privately. Maybe that was what set me aside from my siblings. Knowing my parents only supported Voldemort because it was the easiest thing to do was probably the reason I was rebelling against being a Death Eater.

* * *

My father and I stood under the barbaric stained glass window in the entrance. Thankfully, Sable had taken Archana and Lazzaro already. Danton had said he wanted to discuss my mission. As much as I didn't want to talk about that, I was glad to be away from my siblings who were slowly turning insane.

"You have everything you need?"

I nodded, still angry at Archana. I was hurt before, but now I was reveling in what an impressionable idiot she was.

He glanced at me skeptically. I don't know why, though. I obviously had _enough._ Scraps of parchment and fabric of clothing were peeking out from the edges of my trunk. After I had talk to Archana, I intentionally messed up everything that I had taken the abnormal amount of time to fold. I did it out of pure spite.

"Are you sure? It seems hard to tell with all of those bits sticking out the sides…"

"It's fine," I said through gritted teeth. I tried to keep my voice respectful, but I was slowly losing respect for Danton just for being a Death Eater. He was able to remain somewhat more sane—or insane on a socially acceptable level—than my siblings. They were dragging themselves down to a new low. I wondered if they secretly had meetings to plot against me. Ever since I had been summoned by the Dark Lord, the two had been giving me covert glares and talked to me in jealous tones.

If I wasn't such a coward, I gladly would've given them my task. I was now bashing myself of how I thought I was going to stop Malfoy and Hallenzing from killing a total of four people collectively. I still had to at least try and somehow lure Ginny Weasley into being my friend. All while being a deceiving double agent. This really was the most idiotic thing I was ever going to do.

"Are you ready to complete your task? You know what you have to do. It's simply a matter of executing it in the right way. Where were you planning on talking to her privately?"

I sighed. I had been thinking about this quite a bit. "Well, we're bound to have _some_ classes together. But as you know, a Slytherin having a polite conversation with a Gryffindor is unheard of." I bit the words with sarcasm. "I don't really know if she goes to the library often. I suppose I could try and find her wandering around the corridors. I don't know if she made prefect or not, but I could find out easily."

My father looked unimpressed. "You're going to have to do better than that, Liora."

"What? I could casually run into her in Hogsmeade and strike up a conversation…or not." He shook his head at me.

"I wouldn't befriend her right away, Liora. I would wait a few weeks—maybe even a few months to approach her. You need to watch her, focus on what she does, who she talks to, where she spends her time."

"So you basically want me to stalk her," I deadpanned.

"If you want to put it in those terms—yes."

"I don't know about you, but I don't think that's the best way to make friends."

"Watch yourself. Just remember, you're ultimate goal is to get close to Potter. You don't actually have to become friends with her."

"If I want to earn her trust, I think I do. There is one thing I know I can possibly do."

"What's that?" Danton still looked doubtful. Just wait until he heard what I had to say.

"I've heard Ginny Weasley is fond of Quidditch—that she's quite good actually. Her three older brothers all played on the Gryffindor team." That didn't mean they were all actually skilled. The twins were firly decent, but I would hardly classify Ron Weasley as mediocre. That was being generous.

"And?"

"I have a good reason to believe she may try-out for the team this year. It would only make sense—especially since a good majority of their team graduated last term. There are going to be plenty of open spaces. If Ginny does try out, she's almost guaranteed a spot on the team."

"What does this have to do with you?" My father had a vague notion of what I was going to say.

"Slytherin also lost a few members this year when they graduated. That means there are open spots. Try-outs."

_"You're_ going to try out for the Quidditch team?"

I shrugged. "Look, this was the best way to talk to her I could think of."

"Your reasoning and knowledge is astute, but Gryffindor and Slytherin playing is a bloodbath. _If_ you do make it onto the team, you're never going to get a chance to talk to her. Other than shouting insults at the other team."

"Well, do you think I have a shot of making it onto the team?" I wasn't that worst on a broom—I was average. I didn't have a fear of heights, which helped. I did have a fear of falling, though.

"You can fly a broom well enough. I don't know about you actually handling the quaffles, bludgers, and the snitch." I was a klutz and my hand-eye coordination was lacking. My reflexes weren't terrible.

"It wouldn't hurt to try. If not, I could make it onto the reserves team, then."

"Okay…if you think this is the best way to do it. It's your task, not mine. Just one thing."

"Hmm?" I asked absentmindedly, figuring out which spot I would be the best at. I mean the least horrible at.

"Lazzaro is going to bite your head off for trying out for the team."

"He's not the captain and he can't prevent me from trying out. He's just scared that Archana or I would be secretly better than him. He doesn't want us upstaging or embarrassing him. I think the only thing he has to worry about is being embarrassed by association due to my lack of skills."

He chuckled slightly and gripped one of the handles of my trunk. "That's the spirit. Torment your siblings while you're at it." He was joking, but I took those words to heart. If they were going to make me miserable, why not make them miserable back?

* * *

I knew Archana would've expected me to put on a wounded, defensive front when I greeted them at the train station. I didn't. I made sure to be extra kind to Archana, slinging my arm around her shoulder and even giving her a peck on the cheek. She smiled at me with gritted teeth. I smiled back, toothily. If she was going to shift how she treated me, I was going to have to shift how I responded back. Being classically irritating seemed like the best way to go.

I then turned to Lazzaro, walking at him with open arms. "Lazzaro, my favorite big brother in the whole wide world. Give me a hug in front of the entire train station and all your friends and classmates. This is the last time we'll be able to stand next to each other without you trying to deny my existence as your little sister." I managed to wrap my arms around his waist as he tried to pry out of my grip.

_"Mother get her off of me,"_ he hissed sharply, trying not to physically hurt me in public.

I felt a small spark of electricity jolt through me as I was pushed back several feet so I stood away from Lazzaro. Sable had her wand out and pointed at me, irritably. "Act mature," she reprimanded. _Once they stop acting evil._

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm just preparing myself for my task." I lowered my voice into an exaggerated whisper. The tone was gaudy and forced.

"Subtlety, Liora. Be subtle." She stared pointedly at the silver cuff. I had been the one to tell Archana the same thing earlier.

"Not my style."

Sable grabbed my arm as I tried to walk away. She lowered her face to my ear. "Well, it better be, because if you keep flaunting the Mark like that, you will not have a pleasant time. You would not be able to survive Azkaban, Liora." I almost bumped her nose when I turned to look at her in shock. The conviction in her words lingered.

"Sorry."

"Now, be smart about this. You know what you're supposed to do. Keep your wits about you. And remember: you're in Slytherin for a reason. Be cunning and swift. Show no mercy." She then pecked the top of my head and wrapped her arms around me tightly. I hugged her back.

"I love you Liora, and promise me you'll keep yourself safe.

I nodded and moved back as she released me.

Sable gave similar, quicker hugs and kisses to Lazzaro and Archana.

As the train whistle blew, I gripped my trunk tightly and gave one last look around the platform. This would be the back door of my innocence, I believed. As soon as I arrived at Hogwarts, I would be a Death Eater on a mission. Somehow, I would need to balance being a student and being an appendage of the Dark Lord.

I didn't understand how Sable expected me to be_ safe._

* * *

"What a bloody maggot he was. I swore I'd never date another boy again—at least until my husband." Fellow Slytherin fifth year and dormmate, Odessa Bronstead was uncharacteristically draped across my lap and the remainder of the bench, moaning to herself about a cheating, Scandinavian wizard she'd had an affair with this summer. "He was a no-good Half Blood on top of that."

I glared down at her.

"Oh come off it. You're mother was a Half Blood—you're not." It was true. I was considered a Pureblood, but I was more of a Three Quarter Blood—that wasn't actually a term.

Back to the foreign wizard. Odessa had gone to Norway with her parents and "fallen in love" with a Nordic wizard. They eloped several times in the course of two months, only to have it end with Odessa finding out he was engaged to a blonde haired, blue eyed half-Veela.

Now, Odessa was a dark type of beauty—Italian complexion and hooded, dark eyes and thick, straight hair—with a willowy figure, but she had no chance in competing with a Veela.

My other only bearable dormmate was Cilla Selwyn—the however many removed cousin of the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour and descendant of Salazar Slytherin. She had hailed from one of the wealthiest and most ancient families, Selwyn. Her father was a high-ranking Death Eater—even higher than my father.

Cilla was quiet and had plain, monotonous looks. She didn't make her opinion known very often, her last name speaking louder than any of her words ever would. The one fact she had stated rather harshly was the zero relation between herself and Dolores Umbridge, after a rumor had floated around the school.

The final member in our compartment was William "Will" Harper. He preferred our company to the boys in our year, mainly because he was obsessed with girls—just not _us_ anymore. He was good friends with his dormmates, but told us we fascinated him. That was what kept him around all these years, apparently. He was quite fond of us, now.

We'd only been sitting in the compartment for several minutes and they had all been devoted to Odessa complaining about her devastating summer relationship.

"Odie, remind me who those earrings are from," Cilla said blandly. Her last name really was the only thing that saved her from a miserable existence at school.

Sitting up, Odessa gingerly touched her earlobes, fingering the diamond studs she always wore. She'd been wearing them every day since Christmas of last year. "Blaise," she whispered quietly.

"Odessa," I groaned. "Please tell me you didn't forget about Blaise. I thought you two had broken up."

She looked around frantically. "I was in Norway and he and his mother were in France for the entire summer. There was no way for me to contact him." An owl?

Cilla nodded with little compassion. "Tell him now. Don't make him wait."

Odessa shook her head. "No. I don't want him to start the school year depressed. His grades would slip. He's taking NEWT classes this year. Any more distractions for him would be too much. Especially since you know his step-father passed away at the end of last year." His _seventh _step-father. I think he'd be okay.

"If you want to know an angle from the guy's point of view, I'd rather be told right away. I wouldn't want to know you waited to tell me—that's skeevy. The longer you wait, the worse it's going to be," Will piped up from the Quidditch magazine he was reading. He enjoyed Quidditch and was remarkable at it, but had never gone out for the team.

"Odessa, get up. You have to tell him right now. I'll go with you." I stood up and motioned for her to follow me. Honestly, I was just stalling telling them about the Dark Mark. That was one of the reasons I didn't owl anyone this summer. I wasn't precisely sure how they would react. It was hard to gauge. Cilla would probably shake her head in defeat. Odessa might try to congratulate me without really meaning it. And Will…he was the hardest to determine. Probably because he kept his opinions to himself. He was just as much my friend as the others, but he was a bigger listener than talker.

I had to drag Odessa by her arm, almost tripping when she walked on the backs of my heels. "You know, that bracelet is tasteless. Snakes? Really? Cliché, Liora. It looks like a metallic sleeve—to thick to be considered a cuff." Her eyes were fixated on the piece of jewelry encircling my arm.

I stared at her stonily. "It's doing what is has to do."

She stared back at me, transfixed for a moment, thinking that maybe she had caught on to what I was saying.

"Is it enchanted? Is it keeping you from sweating or keeping your makeup from running?"

I dropped her arm, offended. "No. I don't look that bad. Now, let's go find Blaise. I have to talk to my brother anyway." I had actually wanted to talk to Malfoy about his task.

She tried to turn around and flee to the compartment. "Really, I could tell him once we get to Hogwarts. I promise. I'll tell him tonight. I'll tell him to meet me in the common room—"

"No. You _have_ to go, _now."_ Blaise wasn't a bad kid. He was friends with my brother and Malfoy which gave him a bad reputation. He was slightly perverted and crossed lines too often, but he was genuine. He didn't have the cool facades that everyone else in Slytherin seemed to have. Most importantly, Voldemort's influence left him untouched for the most part.

We marched down to one of the last compartments in the back of the train. The only people above sixth year Slytherins were seventh year Slytherins.

I pulled open the door and saw Malfoy, Lazzaro, Blaise, and Pansy Parkinson huddled around a table. She had her elbows propped up too far, hands covering Malfoy's. I almost pitied her, him leading her on like that. But then again, he had told her numerous times how worthless she was to him and she still didn't seem to get the hint. It was impossible for her to be hurt by him.

Lazzaro stood up and shook his head as soon as he saw us. "Nope. No. Get out, Liora. Go talk to your own friends." He gave Odessa a soft glare but didn't banish her from the cabin.

Blaise quickly stood up, face brightening as soon as he saw her. He shoved past me and gripped Odessa's face between his hands. Roughly pulling her into a kiss, he pushed her down onto an unoccupied bench, unaware of everyone around them looking around in disgust. For me, it was sadness. Blaise was obviously so passionate for Odessa and she was too, but not only for him.

I thought of my first kiss. It had been nothing like how Blaise and Odessa kissed. It had been with Nathan Yerts, a Ravenclaw who had been good friends with Cedric Diggory. He'd shown interest in me—surprising since he was crossing over into Slytherin. He was sweet and cute and I had always thought of him as a good friend. Although I had been the one that asked him to kiss me, my main motive was to secure the milestone of the first kiss. Besides, it was awkward and wet. He had missed my mouth, half kissing my cheek. We had gotten better at kissing, but once Cedric had died, that somehow seemed to fuel his loathing for Slytherin and he ended it. By then, our relationship had fizzled like steam. It meant nothing to me. He ignored me now.

Odessa didn't try to push him away, but Pansy of all people yelled at them loud enough. "Blaise, if you want to go shag your girlfriend, I'd prefer if you didn't do it in here. Go kick some little first years out of a compartment. I'll even do it for you." She was smiling too pleasurably.

Unsure, my friend cast me a glance. I nodded my head minutely.

Odessa stood up; leading Blaise by the hand, following after Pansy who somehow thought it was her duty to make sure all Pureblood Slytherins were paired off with each other, probably for the exact purpose of keeping Malfoy for herself.

I sighed sadly at the idea of Odessa and Blaise separating. They were the couple that everyone swore would get married for love. Besides my own parents' marriage, all other Slytherins seemed to do it out of blood ties and keeping the line pure.

"You looking for someone to snog, Cavyon?" Malfoy tried to ask with a smirk. He just looked drained. Lazzaro looked offended, forgetting he wasn't the only Cavyon there.

"You offering, Malfoy?" I matched his smirk, feeling a little more energetic than he looked. If we went off to snog, I could ask him about his task.

"Malfoy, back off. You two are not snogging. Liora, get the hell out of here before I jinx your ass out that door." Lazzaro had gone from threatening me with Unforgivables to little jinxes…interesting.

"Wait, I still need to talk to Malfoy—"

"Liora. Get. Out." Lazzaro moved closer to me, trying to size me up, deciding if he would actually have to kick me out using force.

I held my hands up, trying to look as soothing as possible. "Have you told anyone about your Marks yet? I don't know if I should tell anyone or not."

The two looked at each other. "Pansy and Blaise already know. I'll tell Crabbe and Goyle eventually. Any Slytherin would be trustworthy with that information." I vaguely doubted that.

Their glassy eyes didn't even seem to be registering the incredulous look I had. Could they be that stupid that they thought _all_ Slytherins were trustworthy? I knew not all Slytherins were supporters of Voldemort. Some of them opposed him quite openly. It was hard to believe Lazzaro had pure hate written on his face a few days ago. Now he looked like a fish out of water.

"Don't tell anyone else," I grunted when I realized they were brainwashed. They wouldn't question any other Slytherin or the motives of the Dark Lord. I was the odd one out.

While I was shoving my way back to the compartment, I elbowed past the trolley cart and thoughtlessly stole a chocolate frog. As small as it was, I knew I'd be feeling guilt for taking it later.

Gah! What was wrong with me? If I had to be a Death Eater, I had to harden up. I couldn't walk around crying about stolen candy when my job description included killing others.

I didn't want to kill anyone. I wanted to be left alone and leave everyone else alone. That was the problem. The Purebloods wanted to squash everyone else because they were busybodies that liked sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Voldemort was the worst.

I wouldn't be part of it. I wouldn't.

I couldn't do it.

I was in the middle of my ethics rant when a small first year in unmarked robes shoved an envelope at me and quickly bustled away. Flipping the envelope to the front, _Liora Valene _was written in sloppy cursive that agitated my vision.

Carefully and guardedly ripping open the letter and letting the envelope flutter to the ground, I stared at its contents written in more horrible cursive.

**Miss Liora Cavyon:**

**You are formally invited to the first meeting of the Slug Club held in Compartment C in the second box car.**

** This meeting will induct all new members into the exclusive society.**

** All members are carefully handpicked by Horace Slughorn, Potions Master at Hogwarts graciously returning from retirement.**

** Please join us at one o' clock sharp for tea.**

** If you are not there, I will assume you are lost and send someone to come at get you.**

** Cannot wait to see you!**

His name was scrawled at the bottom. Or at least I think it was his name. It was hard to make out.

"Oh Merlin, kill me," I groaned from the creepily personal name on the envelope to the official looking joke of an invitation. And the Slug Club? The name alone made me want to vomit. I refused to be his pathetic little mascot. And why me? I had talked to him _once_ in the Apothecary. I wouldn't say the conversation went well.

Back in the compartment, Cilla stood there, holding a matching letter, face pinched.

"You got one too?" She squinted at my letter.

I nodded sadly.

"I knew we had a new potions teacher and I'd heard who it was, but _this_ is just excessive. I can't imagine why he would invite me; I've never met the man in my life."

"I did. Once."

"Please you two don't leave me alone here," Will complained jokingly.

"Don't worry, Will. I'm not going to that stupid meeting. I met the man once and never want to speak to him again."

Cilla gripped my arm tightly and started to pull me out the door. "Oh no. I am not going alone."

"Why the hell do you even want to go at all?" I moaned.

She shrugged delicately. "I'm a little intrigued. He sounds fascinating."

"The only fascinating thing about this is that you find him fascinating. That's more concerning than anything else."

"He won't be nearly as bad as you say, Liora."

I laughed at her words. For awhile, I was able to forget about being a Death Eater. I could complain to my friend about our new lunatic teacher with a strange fixation on his students.

That was until I saw Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter sitting in the compartment when we arrived there.

** Thanks guys! Sorry it's been awhile since I updated, I've just been trying to get everything straightened out for the rest of the story. I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will be out much sooner—I'm already started on it. Please review and see you next chapter!**


	8. Crazy Train

**LIORA, CILLA, AND ODESSA ARE MINE. EVERYONE ELSE'S ARE JK ROWLING'S.**

**Chapter 7—Crazy Train**

"Let's leave," I begged in Cilla's ear. _"Please,_ I promise I will go to all the other meetings and suck up. Just let me miss this one."

She shook her head against my cheek and gripped my arm—over the cuff—painfully dragging me along like a doll a child might have trailing behind them.

My vision was trained on the ginger haired girl and the black haired boy. Both were looking around with great disinterest and irritation. I couldn't help looking at them. If only Potter wasn't here…

"Hi Liora." Ginny's lax face turned into a small, hesitant smile when she saw me. I kept remembering her parting words to me at her brothers' store. They weren't friendly, but they were polite. That gave me some hope.

"Hi Ginny," I managed, almost choking on her name. Glancing around, no one seemed to be paying much attention to our little exchange. Cilla was already ahead of me, and even if she had seen it, she wouldn't have said anything—she had no personal quarrel with most of the people in our year.

However, when I sat down next to Cilla, an open seat on the other side, I could see Potter staring at me through narrowed eyes. He was positioned nearly right across from me on the other side of the curving table. If I were to look straight ahead, I would be staring between him and an attractive Hufflepuff in his grade.

A heavy mass sat down on the chair next to me. I didn't bother to look, figuring it was another Slytherin, somehow lucky enough to be shafted into this ridiculous club. I could ignore them without offending them.

"Did you know?" I froze at the voice.

Craning my head mechanically, Blaise was the Slytherin next to me. He had one elbow propped on the table so his torso was turned toward me. I couldn't make out who was sitting on the other side of him.

I noticed how defeated he looked. His eyes were somehow dragged down in the corners and his tie was awkwardly bent out of place. Like most Slytherin Purebloods, he was normally very neat and meticulous when it came to his appearance. Odessa had told him.

"I just found out in the compartment. I told her she had to tell you. It wouldn't be fair to you if she didn't," I sighed, feeling sorry for him.

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"What?" My eyebrows were slowly rising. Quickly checking around, I realize I'd said that a little louder than I'd intended to.

"I would've preferred if Odessa hadn't said a word about it to me. She told me she didn't want to tell me, that _you_ made her."

"She was cheating—"

"You know our second anniversary was coming up soon? I don't know if we're even going to make it to that now."

"Didn't…didn't you two break it off?"

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair, the front legs dangling above the ground. If he moved back too far, he would even up crashing into the wall of the train, maybe even through a compartment wall. These walls were flimsy. I imagined there were some first or second years nervous about coming back to school. He'd bowl right onto their laps out of this unfortunate club—

Wait! Ginny and I had a connection. If we were both in this horrid club, I could get a chance to talk to her alone. I could—

"I don't really know what the status of our relationship is right now. Odessa seemed upset and I don't know if she even wants to get back together with me after yelling at her. I don't know if I can keep doing this with her knowing she cheated on me." Was he really even considering it?

"Blaise, she _cheated _on you for two whole months, she knew what she was doing was wrong. Call It off. There are plenty of other decent girls to date." I didn't say it, but it didn't surprise me that Odessa had cheated on him. She liked change. If something stayed the same for too long, she would do something about it. She was bored with Blaise.

"I _love_ her, Liora. I don't even care that she didn't tell me. That's how much I love her. I trust her enough to know she shouldn't have done it again."

"Don't you want her to be honest with you?" I asked.

"No. I wouldn't want to know about it. Don't you see how much this hurt me, Liora? I would do the same for Odessa, keeping secrets from her to make sure she didn't get hurt." Was there any honesty in their relationship?

"She wasn't faithful, Blaise. She was cheating on you while you were in France. She doesn't deserve a second chance." It sounded harsh, but Odessa was an idiot and needed to learn life had consequences. Not everything always worked out in her favor. For me, nothing ever did, I thought bitterly.

"She's your _friend_, Liora. You should be defending her. You shouldn't be talking about her behind her back."

"Blaise, you're the one that needs defending right now. I was trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. Odessa should've known better than to—"

"I am _not_ your friend, I never was. You may be my mate's little sister, but that's it. I don't need you to look out for me. Besides, no one's perfect. And at least Odessa's stronger than you." He tapped my cuff when he said that, shoving whoever was in the chair on the other side of him next to me.

That bastard of a brother must've been telling all the sixth years my weakness when it came to the Mark. It was his own business to tell whoever he wanted about his _own_ Mark, but not mine. I would have to talk to him about that.

But on top of that, what the hell were Odessa and Blaise doing? I didn't understand how or why they were still together or even thinking about being together. Blaise was blind to the fact Odessa didn't love him like he loved her. She didn't intentionally go out of her way to hurt people, it just sort of happened. She didn't even seem to realize she was doing it sometimes.

"You did the right thing," Cilla muttered tonelessly in my ear. I grimaced and rolled my shoulders, trying to scooch away from her. She was always so quiet when she talked; she liked to do it right into the ear like she was telling a secret.

Potter was still watching me. He and Ginny were having a relaxed conversation—I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, something about Quidditch, I think. His eyes kept darting over to me as if he couldn't believe she would have the audacity to greet a Slytherin and that I had that courage to respond. He despised all of us.

The Gryffindors wondered why we hated them so much. It was because they didn't give us a chance either. It was a cycle that was never going to be broken. Sometimes I wished I were in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. They didn't have vicious rivalries to worry about.

He did seem awfully protective of Ginny. That, or possessive. I couldn't decide. He reminded me a kid not wanting anyone to touch their toys. He was sort of like that with all his friends. Like they were his property. I wondered if like Lazzaro and his friends, Ginny and Harry talked just because of the connection they had with Ron. I would talk to Lazzaro's friends, but that was it. Apparently I wasn't considered their friend.

The unfortunately familiar man from Diagon Alley pushed his chair back in a laughable attempt to stand up. His rounded stomach hit the spout of a tea pot, almost knocking it over. I brought a hand up to my mouth, still snorting around the fingers.

Cilla elbowed me, my hands falling back into my lap.

Slughorn drew his hands up as if he were about to conduct an orchestra. "I am so pleased to see all of you have decided to show up—it would be rather foolish if you didn't. Anyway, onto introductions. I am Horace Slughorn, a new professor—no wait, I'm sorry. That's not correct. I am a _returning_ professor of Hogwarts after twenty years of retirement…twenty? That can't be right. Either way, I am pleased to announce you are the best and finest Hogwarts has to offer." I scoffed, glaring down at the table.

The man then went on a vomit-inducing tirade of all the members of the club. A shy dolt named Marcus Belby whose estranged uncle invented Wolfsbane. Zacharias Smith, a self-righteous Hufflepuff also with an uncle influential in the Ministry. There was a timid little Ravenclaw girl with a big nose named Melinda Bobbin. Her family owned the Apothecary in Diagon Alley—what a prat. There was Blaise and his mysteriously wealthy mother and her little collection of dead husbands. Ginny Weasley, the only one of us who seemed to have even a _spot _talent. Surprisingly, Neville Longbottom's parents were extremely gifted Aurors, something that was evidently not passed onto him.

"And of course, the lovely Carrow twins, Flora and Hestia."

_No._ No, no, no, no, no, no. No.

I reluctantly leaned forward and looked down to the right. Sure enough, several seats down were the plain faced, lanky haired twins wearing matching mint green jumpers. They smiled sweetly in a sick way in unison at Slughorn.

I had managed to forget about those two for the entire summer. That was over, especially now that I had to share a room with them. They were my two final dormmates. And although they never came right out and said they hated me, they made it quite clear in their actions. With others, they were quite civil to me. However, in our dorm, they unleashed insults at my quarter Muggleborn heritage. They did the same to Odessa whose mother's brother had married a Muggle. They got on well with Cilla.

Not only was their family low in ranking of Voldemort's followers, each and every person in that family had looks that were ugly enough to appease a dementor. They all had lovely personalities to match.

"I actually taught both your parents. Your mother Simone works as a high profile reporter for the _Prophet _and your father Tybalt works on the Wizengamot. Third in command, I believe? Both were very apt with a wand." Both their parents were incredibly old. Their two vastly older siblings Alecto and Amycus were in hiding—that much I knew.

The twins nodded without saying anything and raised their teacups to their lips at precisely the same time. Creepy. I had always wondered if they practiced that or did that naturally.

"Ahh…Cilla Selwyn. A fine name for a fine girl. You have so many extraordinary family members; I don't even know where to begin. Your sister Demeter is a top-notch astronomer. And your paternal grandmother…my word. She was quite a sight back in the day…" There were a few chuckles. "…my, my. She was no stranger to me…" Even more chuckles, including me. "…and to add to that, you are a direct descendant from Salazar Slytherin. You are nearly royalty, my girl. I expect much from you." Cilla no longer looked interested in meeting Slughorn.

I cringed when he said my name, wishing to hear him talk about his adolescent loves than try to justify why I was even _here._ "It was a funny story of how we met everyone. I was wandering around the Apothecary—Melinda's family owns it—and this girl covered in Floo powder nearly bowls me over on her way out. Then, we struck up a lovely conversation and I learned Liora is a ringer for Potions." Lies. I was a legendary blunder when it came to Potions. Everyone looked at me skeptically. My face burned.

By the time Slughorn had moved onto the Chosen One, I was half-asleep. My head was leaned back against the headrest on the chair, lolling from side to side. I appreciated that Cilla didn't try and jar me from my light slumber. Merlin was I tired. I had already been up for nearly twelve hours today and wouldn't get to go to sleep for at least another six. I was tempted to skip the Welcoming Feast. Watching a gaggle of first years didn't sound appealing.

_"Liora!"_ Someone hissed in my ear sharply. I jumped at Cilla, a hand gripped tightly around my shoulder. "The meeting is over. We can go back to the compartment."

"Yes," I whispered energetically. When I looked around, I realized that for besides Smith, we were the only ones in the compartment. I was grateful the Chosen One and Ginny had already left. Also, I was glad the Carrow twins and Blaise had exited.

"Let's get back to the compartment. Will and I need to start patrolling soon…"

I stopped Cilla once we got into the hallway. "Patrolling what?"

She shrugged weakly. "The train. Will and I are the new Slytherin prefects."

"And you didn't tell me? Congratulations!" I actually grabbed Cilla in a hug.

"Thank you."

"Wait." I held her at arm's length. "Weren't you supposed to go to a meeting or something?"

She shrugged again. "That's one of the perks of being a Selwyn and a Slytherin. The Head Girl is Lorraine Sax. She respects me to the point where I could use her for anything." Anything Slytherin that Sax twins were all over. It was just strange hearing Cilla using her pedigree to get what she wanted.

She seemed to notice me thinking about that. "Oh don't worry. It was Will's idea."

I put a dramatic had on my chest and braced myself against her arm. "Oh _good_. I thought _Cilla_ _Selwyn_ was breaking the rules. The next thing you know, Slytherins will be getting along with Gryffindors."

"Not even when hell freezes over." She didn't say it with bitterness or anger, just matter-of-factly. She didn't have problems with the Gryffindors more than she would with any other person. She tried to know a person based on _them, _not whatever glamours they were surrounded by. Most people were the opposite way.

I sobered when I glanced at the cuff on my arm. "Cilla, come back to the compartment. There's something I need to tell the three of you. I completely forgot about it."

"Anything, Liora."

Once we were back in the compartment, I had Will perform a silencing charm on it since my magical abilities were as good as incarcerated.

Cilla sat tall and quietly, hands folded properly on her lap. I always wondered if it was a bore for her to be tedious all the time. I supposed by now it was more of a habit she didn't have to think about.

And Will. He was the opposite of Cilla. Always slouching, hands tucked into his front pockets in an attempt to look suave—which he normally did.

Odessa had remnants of glittering tear streaks on her cheeks. They actually made her look prettier. More ethereal and innocent. We all knew she could use some innocence.

These were the only people I could trust with my secret, as imperfect and diverse as they were.

"Something happened over the summer. Something…massive."

No one said anything.

"And, I don't exactly know how to feel about it. I know I should be excited I was one of the ones chosen, but I honestly feel angry. I didn't want this for myself, please remember that."

Usually by now, Odessa would've inserted some unnecessary comment.

I closed my eyes, tightly for a moment, imagining I was standing ankle deep in clear, blue water far away from here. Somewhere with sunlight reflecting on this water, on my skin, my forearm clear of any blemishes…

"Liora? Are you going to tell us?" Will asked, slightly irritated. He knew better than anyone I could be a daydreamer at the most inconvenient times.

"Sorry, I was just—sorry."

Waving a hand at me, he nodded for me to continue.

"Please, don't freak out or anything. Let me explain."

"Liora, _what?"_ I knew Odessa wouldn't stay silent forever…

I felt odd.

My joints suddenly felt like they were locking, blood solidifying in my veins. My jaw and elbows especially were stiff, like my brain was shutting my body down so I couldn't tell my friends.

I could see my heartbeat in my eyelids. The skull and snake were burning red against the black every time I closed my eyes. I felt a pain in my arm, like the metal of the cuff was melting onto my skin.

_The metal cuff was melting onto my skin!_

"Get it off! Get it _off!"_

The three immediately jumped towards me. I held out my arm for one of them to grab. "Will, get if off! It's burning into my skin!" Poorly timed tears spiked my eyes and bubbled my vision. I could feel someone grabbing onto my wrist, right below the cuff. Someone had a hand cupped around my shoulder. Another person was standing doing nothing. Cilla.

"Why is it doing that?" Odessa.

"I don't _know!_ Just get it off me!" She was such an idiot with those stupid questions she asked at the most inconvenient times.

My right arm found its way over to the left and started to claw at the metallic cuff. It was heating up and molding my fingertips. My nails bended down into my skin like blades of grass into the ground.

"Liora, you've got to stop thrashing around. I can't help you unless you hold still."

I glared blindly at Will. "If you were in as much pain as I was, you wouldn't be able to sit still either." My words came out as a growl with severe intonation.

"You're obviously not in that much pain if you can talk," Odessa informed. She did her job as useless commentator well.

"Please," I begged while squeaking, in an attempt to cover up a scream threatening to rip apart my throat.

A collective sigh rippled throughout the compartment as something poked me in the face. I managed to wipe my eyes. Will loomed over me, with a pinched face and sweat beading his hairline.

_"Stupefy."_

* * *

I gasped at the air, sitting up from the ground. Glancing around frantically, I was surrounded by cream walls, benches with fluffed pillows, and a picture window with curtains pulled to both sides. I was in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

Someone grabbed me under the arms and dragged me to one of the benches, propping me up.

My vision slowly sharpened, seeing Cilla sitting on the edge of the bench, near my legs. Odessa had been scared into the other corner of the compartment, her wand sticking out of the waistband of her skirt. And Will.

Will stood in the center of the compartment, wand in one hand and a piece of warped silver in the other. It was my cuff.

My arm was still stinging like I had gone and scarped it along the stone walls of an entire corridor in Hogwarts. Although, when I looked down, it wasn't red. The skin was actually very pale. The black ink of the Mark was overlaid with glistening silver, still in the correct shape.

Quietly getting up, I inspected the cuff and saw a burned out stencil of the Mark where it laid over my arm. Like molten lava, the silver must've welded and cooled itself into the shape of the Mark. I knew that wasn't normal. Nothing from the time I had become a Death Eater had gone right.

Cilla suddenly appeared at my side, kneeling down, taking the cuff from Will and tracing her finger along the singed pattern. She didn't look at me. "Your life is over," she said quietly.

Will bristled at that. "No it's not, Cilla! She obviously didn't choose this! Liora, you're young. You can't be a Death Eater."

His words were actually somewhat comforting. "I didn't have a choice," I muttered.

"That's sick. They can't force a teenage girl to become—"

"They can, Will! I've seen it done before! Demeter was barely out of Hogwarts when she was branded! The difference was she desperately wanted to be Death Eaters since she started Hogwarts as an eleven year old." Cilla ranted, wringing her hands at the thought of her psychotic sister.

"Can't your mother do something about it?" He asked urgently.

Will had always meant well, but his family bore no connection or support to Voldemort. I suspect the only reason he was placed in Slytherin was due to his ambition which he normally kept quiet. I remembered the first conversation we had first year right after we were Sorted into Slytherin.

_My only option had been to get into Slytherin. If I were in any other House, my parents would've been really mad. _

_The boy next to me had tan skin and dark hair that fell in front of his face. He was staring down at the golden plate, repeatedly stabbing the meat. _

_"I think it's dead," I offered quietly, trying to sound funny. He seemed angry._

_His head swiveled up to look at me. I noticed his eyes were shiny, like he was going to cry. I had never seen a boy cry, other than Lazzaro and he had been six._

_"Are you crying?" I asked softly, trying to sound comforting. I was too tactless to know it wasn't a polite thing to ask someone that, especially a boy. _

_He scoffed at me, trying to look tough. "Let me guess: you're a regular Slytherin Pureblood." I had assumed that he was one, but from his tone, I knew he wasn't._

_I looked around quietly, my eyes lingering on my brother for a moment. He sat away from me and refused to acknowledge my existence, other than nodding when I sat down in the first year section of the table. I didn't think he was serious when he said he was going to ignore me…during the summer, we spent a great amount of time together. He would be so angry at me for telling this boy about our mother._

_"Well, not exactly. See, my mum's a Halfblood and I don't exactly know what that makes me." _

_The boy looked at me in puzzlement, dropping the guard he had. "My dad's a Halfblood, too."_

_I smiled softly at him. "I'm Liora Cavyon and I cry all the time." That was true back then._

_He stuck out his hand to me. "Will Harper."_

Our in-between blood status had always meant a tight friendship for the two of us, especially since we were in Slytherin. His mum was a Pureblood, but she had been Sorted into Hufflepuff and his father into Ravenclaw. Compared to other Slytherins, he was docile, but not to his family who held their predispositions about our House.

"Will, you know that my father's a Death Eater. That overrules whatever ties my mother had. Besides, we don't even know if my mother's parents are still alive. They would've been the ones to stand up against Voldemort. It's a wonder my mother wasn't hunted down like they were or turned into a Death Eater."

"And because of him you have to be one now? Do you have to carry on the family tradition?" His words were cold.

I put my head in my hands and shook it.

"Liora, this reminds me a lot of when Demeter became a Death Eater. She wasn't the only one. Other teenaged Slytherins were also branded. It happens in bouts when Voldemort's followers are dwindling. Who else?"

As much as she hated this cause—mainly because it destroyed her family—she was very intuitive and informed about it. I was surprised she wasn't one of the ones to be chosen to be a Death Eater.

And yet, I didn't feel right telling her who the others were. It wasn't my secret to tell. Especially for my siblings. I didn't want anyone knowing they were Death Eaters.

That's when Cilla gripped my hands and forced me to look at her. "Telling me who the other ones are will be the least of your troubles, Liora. It honestly won't hurt you anymore than you will be hurt. I'm not going to tell anyone. And neither will Will or Odessa." The three of us looked skeptically over at Odessa who was poking herself in the thigh with her wand, conveniently ignoring us. She was claimed she was a supporter of the Dark Lord.

"Don't hurt yourself," I called over, hoping to shift the attention towards her.

"Who are they, Liora?" Cilla forced.

"Well, I guess the first one isn't that surprising, but the Sax twins. They're seventh years."

No one seemed shocked yet.

"And then there's Trent Hallenzing…"

"What! He's only a third year!" Cilla stood up indignantly and began to pace around. She didn't personally know Trent, but the idea of him being a Death Eater was as barbaric to her as it was to me. "What is wrong with that…_creature?"_

"Shh! Cilla, shut up. Of all people, you can't be the one to say that! What happens if you get caught?" Will grabbed one of her arms and forced it down. He performed another silencing charm around the compartment, as if the other one had dissolved away.

"I know enough to be able to say what I say, Will. You have no idea, so I suggest you don't tell me to be quiet." There were some moments when Cilla quietly exploded with emotion. I think the proper term was passive-aggressive, except she was passive most of the time.

"The others, Liora?" Now I was a little scared to tell her the rest. She had the potential to erupt with anger.

"Malfoy's one. I suspect it's because his father has been a disappointment in the past few years."

"Draco?" Will's eyebrows raised at that. He was friends with Malfoy and looked rather disheartened at that. Now he knew how I felt when my siblings and I were branded.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Is…is that it?"

I scoffed angrily and glared and her. "Of course not Cilla!"

"Then…who else—" Will began tentatively.

A rush of emotions suddenly tackled me. They were all negative. Sadness, helplessness, anger. I couldn't control my wavering voice when I said my brother's name. "Lazzaro."

The expressions on Will and Cilla's faces dropped off to shock.

"Liora…" I didn't know who said it, and I didn't care enough to register the voice.

"I'm not done." Whoever said that shut up.

"Archana's a Death Eater. My little sister has a Mark on her arm." That was the most stunning piece of news for them. I continued. "And if I could go back in time or somehow be sure of one future outcome, it's that Archana is no longer a Death Eater. That's my main concern." Already, she was beginning to snap from the pressure of it. Something seemed off about Lazzaro, but he had always been a bit darker than Archana. My sister had never been _evil._ She had always been one of the kindest people I knew. Now she was twisted.

Odessa finally reacted to that, pulling her knees up to her chest—even though she was flashing everyone in the compartment with her skirt. She looked spacey, but I knew she was far from that. Odessa had three little siblings at Hogwarts. Isadora was fourth year—she was Archana's dormmate—and the twins Gregoria and Philippa were going to be second years. Along with her older brother Felix who had just graduated last year, Odessa and her siblings were very tight knit—even if they didn't seem so. She was fiercely protective of her little sisters.

Will was in the same situation. He only had one little sister, Lottie who was going to be a first year next year. Since the beginning of last year, he had told us of how he didn't want her being in Hogwarts alone, especially the condition it was going in. He would be with her as a seventh year, but that was it.

The three of us seemed to have a weakness for younger siblings. This was something Cilla didn't understand. She did have a sister, but Demeter was so much older than her, the two were never even at Hogwarts at the same time. Demeter was the complete opposite of Cilla, resembling Bellatrix Lestrange in a sadistic way.

"I don't understand the Dark Lord's logic for the people he picked as his new Death Eaters. Lorraine and Willington seem logical choices and if Malfoy's father had slipped up, this would be the best way for him to redeem himself. But why Trent and you and your siblings?" Cilla's brow was furrowed, her brain working.

"Well," I began. "Hallenzing's father is a foreign wizard with foreign connections. Perhaps Voldemort wanted a further reaching influence. You know? Get supporters in other countries?"

Cilla nodded hesitantly. "Still horrible…what about you and your siblings?"

"Since my father hasn't royally screwed up like Malfoy's has, it must be something with my mother and her parents. That's all I can think of. I doubt my parents would serve Lazzaro, Archana, and me up on a silver platter to Voldemort. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter, because I was specifically given a very special task."

"That does not sound good," Will muttered.

Compared to Malfoy and Hallenzing, my task was light. But what it stood for was almost heavier than theirs.

"I have to befriend Ginny Weasley and hopefully coerce Potter to trust me."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Will interjected.

"No, but that basically means I'm leading him to his death." I blew a piece of hair out of my face.

"I've never been a fan of Potter or any of his Gryffindork's, but I don't honestly think he's dumb enough to trust a random Slytherin whose older brother is one of his worst enemies." I suddenly realized my relation to Lazzaro added an unforeseen complication. Damn _it._

"I hadn't thought of that, but thank you for adding to my stress."

Cilla asked me why I should be the one to get close to Potter.

"Well, because I'm in the same grade as Ginny whose friends with Potter. Anyone a year older than us has already terrorized them beyond repair. And, if I don't do this, I have the possible chance of being killed."

No one erupted in anger or confusion. They all stared dumbly, waiting for an explanation.

"The reason I was given this task was because I was one of the 'weak ones' that was in danger of making a terrible Death Eater. This is chance at redemption—my only chance. I'm not sure exactly what happens if I fail, but my death Is the most likely consequence."

Will made an uncharacteristic move of coming to sit close to me. He then wrapped both his arms around me tightly and squeezed me close to him. He buried his head in the crook of my neck. It caught me off guard. Our relationship was based on our rough bitterness for the spoiled and cruel Slytherin Purebloods. We had both originally believed Odessa and Cilla were that way—which in some ways they were, but so were we in others.

I eventually managed to wrap my arms around his waist uncomfortably. This natural act felt so…unnatural to me. Just because it was Will.

I lightly rested my arms on his shoulders, wrists dangling, fingers grazing the soft fabric covering his back. His muscles tightened across my back as he took a deep breath in, mumbling something I couldn't understand. It made me shiver.

Abruptly, I pulled away when I leaned my head in towards the crown of his. I did feel uncomfortable and stiff. I hadn't been this close to a boy since Nathan Yerts, so I wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to feel.

Will stared at me, almost wounded.

"Sorry…I—I just need some space. This has all been weighing down on me very much and—" I cut myself off, drawing completely back from my friend and sighing as I looked at the sterling Mark.

He nodded and sat down next to me, but keeping enough space between us so there wasn't even the chance to brush elbows.

The rest of the ride doled out in almost complete silence. Odessa was quiet, weeping softly, inaudibly; head rested against the window fogging around her mouth. Her cheeks glittered with tears she would occasionally scrub away with her sleeve, leaving severe blush marks on either side of her face.

Will continued to stare down at his thumbs he twiddled in his lap. I was careful to only glance at him out of the corner of my eye. How awkward we were both acting now.

Cilla was the most vibrant. She couldn't seem to sit still. My vision unconsciously followed her as she paced strange patterns into the floor, using her wand to send harmless, colorless sparks out and random. Sometimes, she would pick up the damaged cuff, mutter something in disgust about her sister and chuck it angrily back onto the bench.

Eventually, when the sky became darker, I stood from being a statue as eyes eyes swiveled to me. "I'm going put on my uniform." Odessa was the only one left in the cabin because Cilla and Will had grudgingly left to make their rounds a couple dozen minutes ago.

Craning her head towards me, she sniffled and viscously wiped at your eyes. "You're not the only one with problems, Liora." I assumed she was referring to Blaise.

"Neither are you," I responded, regarding her pouty face. No matter what, it always had to be about her, even if someone truly needed the attention for once. I didn't understand how she constantly liked people staring at her, _thinking _about her.

She scoffed as I slammed the door shut, hearing something clatter against it.

Odessa made it really difficult for someone to feel bad for her for a prolonged period of time.

Once I was alone in the bathroom, I took out my wand and performed a painful and clumsy locking spell and leaned my back against the door.

For some unknown reason, my heart was racing, breath short. It was a familiar sensation to when I had ridden on a broom for the first time, tipping side to side; almost falling to the ground with each lurch…was I really thinking about trying out for Quidditch? I could hardly imagine being on a broom without feeling dizzy.

I then pushed myself away from the door and braced my hands on the sink. I didn't look at myself as I mumbled a pep talk. I knew if I saw my terrified reflection, I would pitch myself off the back of the train.

I didn't understand how staring at yourself in the mirror was soothing. I always zoomed in on my flaws—how easily my face blotched red, my chin with the fold of fat underneath it. I liked my eyes, but not how dwarfed they looked on an ashen face.

After awhile of closed eyes and slow breathing, I fumbled into my uniform. Wearing the green and silver tie was always the worst part. I always felt choked around the neck. There were too many layers. Too many. Especially now that my Mark was however many karats of silver. I was sweating by the time of I put the damned cloak on.

A few seconds later, I squealed in frustration after testing how the fabric felt. I hated it.

Nearly choking as the cloak's button popped off against my throat, I ripped off the sweat and then loosened the tie until it hung loosely. The blouse became untucked from the shirt. I pulled down the itchy knee socks we were forced to wear.

Lately, I'd been wishing I could've been a Muggle. Not just born as one, but living as one—at least _they _could wear whatever they chose to school. Or at least, I could've been a squib. That way, I could be shut in my room at all times, not having to deal with people who were hell-bent of making my life complicated.

Now, I knew there were others with troubles as well, but mine were _substantial. _I could handle teenage worries. I could handle a boy turning me down or a failing class.

_This_ I couldn't.

Maybe even if my Death Eater situation was a little more average, I wouldn't be this wrecked.

But I was _different._

When I was just a random Slytherin, I had always desired to be different or stand out. I would see Lazzaro. Everyone knew who he was and everyone would stop to look at him, either in loathing or admiration.

Even Archana, in her grade was popular. She and Isadora were from two different circles of friends that often butted heads. Duels occasionally broke out between the two sometimes. The older grades would hedge them, betting on which group would win.

The only tie-in to popularity I had was being Cilla's friend. Slughorn was right in the sense she was nearly royalty. All Slytherins learned her name by the first week of school. All those who were smart would keep their head down when they walked by her—funny how she did the same thing. Even other houses and some teachers were reverent to her.

When I first became her friend, I was ecstatic that she would even want to talk to _me,_ a hardly qualifiable Slytherin with a Halfblood mother. Only second year I found out the reason of our friendship. She liked that I was an outsider, standing apart from everyone else. She wanted to be one herself. She also said she saw a spark within me, something that attracted her to me.

That had been the first time someone had ever told me I had a special, invisible quality to me, which stood me apart from others. No one had ever made a comment like that again. I always chalked it up to the fact Cilla was dull and thought everyone was more exciting than herself.

And then, when Cilla had joined Will and me, we thought our little group was complete.

It was purely accident Odessa stumbled into us. Literally during third year, she tumbled down the steps to Care of Magical Creatures into Will, blushing and saying she was sorry like an imbecile. It was obviously intentional because after that, Odessa elbowed the two of us out of the way, walking and talking with Will for the rest of the day.

When classes were over, the two were standing opposite each other, framed by a window near the courtyard. Cilla and I were walking by when Odessa's face meshed into disappointment after she kissed him, quite passionately.

We thought that was it with her, but the next day, Odessa found her way over to us during breakfast and sat down across the table, before Will was there, where she still sits today.

_"You waiting for Will?" I asked bitterly. _I remembered not wanting to share him with someone as intimidating as Odessa.

Odessa had given me this coy little smile she practiced in her mirror over the summer. _"No. I was actually hoping to talk to you two."_

_"Why? We haven't whored ourselves out to Will like you have." _I had been so jealous of her. I knew Will was going to choose her over me, even though we had been friends for two years.

It took a lot to offend Odessa, and that hadn't even fazed her. _"I did fancy him. And I kissed him but realized it wasn't right."_

_"How so?"_

Her smile widened. I always marveled at how surprisingly sweet it was. _"He kisses like a friend. It was good, but I figured he would make a better friend than boyfriend. And someone like him was bound to have really good friends. Besides, the older Slytherins are downright mean." _Before Odessa became friends with us, she palled around with Parkinson and the others a year older than us, including Lazzaro, Malfoy, and Blaise. Until then, she hadn't known I was Lazzaro's little sister.

I smiled faintly when Odessa discovered the truth.

_Quidditch had been suspended for the year due to the Triwizard Tournament, but the Slytherin team had been goading the Durmstrang boys, saying they were too afraid to play them. _Idiots.

_I was gathered in a little cluster with my friends. I hadn't wanted to go because Lazzaro had yelled at me in an empty corridor the day before because Archana and I had asked about a package Danton had sent him. He was so picky about us talking to him in school. _

_But, if everyone on the opposing team was as good as Viktor Krum, I was looking forward to my brother getting smashed into the ground by a bludger._

_I had been one of the few Slytherins cheering for Durmstrang, including Archana who sat a few rows in front of me. Apparently Lazzaro had cornered her in the library and complained about her talking to him during the day. He sounded a lot nicer when he talked to her about it. That wasn't what shocked me—it was easy to be sympathetic for Archana. What surprised me was hearing either Lazzaro or Archana were in the library. Both despised anything to do with reading. _

_Some little first year pipsqueak was narrating the game with a gender neutral voice. From where I sat, I couldn't even tell if the kid was a boy or girl. "Cavyon gets the quaffle and races towards the Durmstrang hoops where Magmor waits…SCORE! Ten points for Slytherin!"_

_All around me, girls stood up and cheered, including Odessa, grabbing my shoulder and jarring it in excitement. _

_After the announcer said "Cavyon" a few more times, Odessa finally caught on. _

_"Wait—Liora, they're saying Lazzaro's last name is Cavyon. That's your last name…"_

_I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to figure it out._

_She did, clapping a gloved hand over her mouth. "Lazzaro is your _brother! _I can't believe I never realized that before. But wait…I've never seen you two talk to each other. Lazzaro never mentioned he had a sister. Liora, I thought you were an only child."_

_"Can you—CAN YOU BLAME ME?" I yelled over the erupting cheers as Slytherin scored again. _

_"What?" Odessa was distracted for a moment. "No. I suppose not. Lazzaro can be a jerk sometimes. It's just strange. You two seem nothing alike." That was one of the greatest compliments I had ever received. _

_"You know, Lazzaro isn't the only sibling I have," I said. _

_"Really? Are they younger or older?" She was assuming they weren't in Hogwarts._

_"Younger. We're very close in age, though."_

_"Who? Is it a boy? Is he cute?"_

_"Sorry. I have a sister." If Lazzaro wasn't good enough for her, she was out of luck. _

_"Who?"_

_I smirked to myself, knowing the animosity Odessa's younger sister, Isadora had with mine._

_"Archana!" I yelled._

_My sister promptly stood up and looked back up at me, an expectant smile on her face. From a few seats down, I saw Isadora scowl. Odessa mimicked her sister's expression. It was eerie how similar they looked._

_"Archana's my sister," I informed her._

"Archana? _She's so mean to my sister!" Odessa yelled indignantly, glaring at _my _sister. _

_"Yeah, well your sister is not very nice to mine either," I retorted. I didn't _hate _Isadora, but I did have a grudge against her. I didn't like people hurting my family. Lazzaro was an exception because he deserved what he got most of the time. _

_After a few minutes, Odessa turned and scrutinized my face. "Yes, I can see it now. You three all sort of look like each other. Archana looks like both of you the most. You've got a hell of a family, Liora. I guess your sister's not that bad, if she's anything like you." If only she knew about my parents._

_I scoffed. "Archana's not, but Lazzaro is."_

_She nodded along with me, smiling as a Durmstrang beater whizzed right in front of my brother's path, causing him to stop abruptly and spin around in agitation._

_"Most definitely," She agreed._

Odessa wasn't one for noticing details, even if they were obvious. She believed what she wanted to believe and saw what she wanted to see, like in the case of my siblings and me. That's why her world was essentially perfect, even when it wasn't.

I had always thought Odessa and I were in some kind of competition. We were friends, but I always wondered if she strived to be better than me or saw me as a threat.

_This year, you'll be the prettier one. You're already the smarter one. You'll be more popular than her. _

To me, Odessa had always been perfect. She had everything and everyone she needed. She was never too aggressive or too passive. People just _liked _her.

The most infuriating thing I realized over time was Odessa didn't realize any of this. She didn't know I was jealous of her or that people would do anything for her.

Even when she cheated on Blaise, she didn't do it with the intention of hurting him .She always fell in love with more than one boy at a time, and I had been surprised she'd stayed with Blaise for as long as she had. How many other times had she cheated on him, though? She had done it, completely forgetting about him.

Seeing the clueless, careless part of her didn't make me so jealous of her anymore. She wasn't cruel and didn't disregard people's feelings, she just didn't think about them unless someone reminded her.

I wondered how long it would be before she hurt me, or Cilla, or Will.

Odessa was a wildcard; a spell gone wrong.

I wondered how well she would fare with becoming a Death Eater. Horribly, I was guessing.

She was the one especially who made me want to be different because she made me feel so boringly average. Seeing as what she was capable of doing to other people, it made me want to be even more average.

But now, I was the unique one with a story to tell and I didn't want it.

As, I ripped the tie off completely, I wondered why I was thinking about Odessa so much.

Then I realized it.

Cilla and Will had both reacted like friends would. They had comforted me, and told me they wished I was lying.

Odessa had sat in the corner, avoiding me like I was poison, wallowing in her own problems. It was all about her. She couldn't' handle that I had taken the spotlight away from her.

Odessa. Odessa. _Odessa._

_She _was the poison. Not me.

* * *

"Scum!" A voice shrieked.

I jolted, eyes blurred. I took me a few moments to realize I was slumped on the floor of the bathroom; layers of clothes bundled around me.

"What _filth!_ Oh, Flora! Do you _see _that Mudblood?"

"It's repulsive! Like a drunken goblin!" Hestia chimed.

Someone might think the voices were joking, but they weren't. This appalled banter was from the Carrow twins, both standing with neatly folded bundles of clothes in the doorway. One of them—I'm not sure which—had a wand in her hand. She had probably opened the door with _alohomora. _

My eyes felt crusted, like I had fallen asleep crying. Which I hadn't been.

Normally, their insults would've wounded even a little bit, but I was much more preoccupied that the white, wrinkled sleeves were rolled up over my forearms. I quickly unrolled the left one.

As I stood up, I felt like a drunken goblin, nearly falling sideways into one of the stalls.

I caught a reflection of myself in the mirror. The plaid skirt slung low on my hips and the few bottom buttons of the shirt hung open. Somehow, my hair had wrinkled and frizzed. My eyes were red, looking like I cried. Maybe I had in my sleep.

"You do your mother proud," one of them hissed.

Like I had said before, I hated when people attacked my family. My wand whipped out and I pointed it at whichever twin's chest. The other squawked, flapping her arms like wings, forgetting she had a wand.

"Don't you dare act all high and mighty. This year is going to be different. You are going to leave me alone because I am a _real _threat."

They seemed to find that funny, laughing in piercing peals.

With a swish of my wand, the door slammed and locked behind them. They looked back in slight fear.

"You two have terrorized the entire school. I'll be doing them a favor." I unarmed both of them. Neither were particularly good when it came to dueling.

I then placed a silencing charm around us.

I was so _sick _of them thinking they were better than everyone. _They _were the repulsive ones. Not me. I had never done anything to them. Their blood might have been "purer", but my family was better than them in every way that mattered.

A current of adrenaline surged in my left arm. Tentatively, I moved my wand over back to my original arm. The wood seemed to come alight, hot but comforting beneath my touch. The metal boiled.

_"Crucio," _I said, simply, pointing the wand slightly above their heads.

Electricity seemed to replace the blood in my body and the core of my wand. A crimson bolt exploded out of my wand, causing the plaster of the wall to turn to dust.

The two girls screamed, grabbed each other, and dropped to the floor, sobbing.

"You're _CRAZY!"_

"You're done for! You're going straight to Azkaban!" It was a humorous threat, considering at least half their family was there because they were Death Eaters that couldn't keep quiet or covert. How they kept their minimal prestige, I didn't know.

But then, I _panicked_. I was a Death Eater and they all either ended up dead or in Azkaban. _This_, would surely label me as unstable and call for me to be locked up until the end of time.

Quickly, I performed a body binding curse on both of them and erased their memories the best I could. I did it several times, not knowing if it had worked or I had done it right.

I then dressed and fixed my hair, waiting until my eyes looked a little less red. The wall was repaired to the best of my abilities, but, it was a powder now. I wiped it down the best I could, too scatterbrained to perform any more spells.

By the time I slipped out into the hallway, I saw it was completely dark out the windows. No one lingered in the hallway as I quietly moved back into the compartment.

As soon as I stepped in and shut the door behind me, I was bombarded.

"Liora! Where were you?" Cilla asked, sounding nervous. She walked forward and grabbed my arms. Will was standing behind her.

I wasn't ever used to anyone being this concerned about me. "Why does it matter?"

"Because of that Mark on your arm. Liora, you have got to be a lot more careful. Besides, Odessa you said you were going to change into your uniform. You've been gone for three hours," Will said, sounding slightly angered.

"I changed into my uniform and then visited with Archana. We got into a fight and I went and sat in a compartment by myself for awhile." My voice was thin and wavery; how it sounded when I lied. Since I looked bedraggled, hopefully they would think I was upset.

"Oh." They both left me alone after that, thinking I was upset about Archana.

When I sat down, I saw Odessa was in the same position. Only now, she was wearing her uniform and sleeping against the window. Her shoulders were drawn up and the space between her eyebrows was wrinkled.

She had been my dormmate for four years and I had never seen her look that troubled while she slept. Blaise really must have been bothering her.

Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe she wasn't poison. Apparently she did worry like a normal person.

A hand clapped over my forehead, causing Cilla and Will to glance at me, then look away quickly.

Odessa was harmless. She would never intentionally hurt anyone. Maybe this was how she dealt with issues, silent withdrawal.

I was able to keep my mind relatively numb until the very end of the ride when a vibrato of a scream echoed throughout the entire train.

Immediately, Odessa shot up, panicking. "The twins!" She yelled and jumped to her feet, running for the hallway.

My heart clenched for a second before accelerating to a gallop. The Carrow twins. How did she know about them? Had someone found them? Would they know it was me?

Everyone else followed her into the hallway.

All around us, people were sticking their heads out, some emerging towards the sound of the scream in terror.

I could see Odessa up ahead, battling people out of her way, knocking them into walls. It was the most ferocious I had ever seen her.

I was able to see where the continuous sound was coming from.

The bathroom where the Carrow's were.

Hesitantly, I towered over some first years, seeing the commotion.

The bathroom door was open, and I could see two ugly pairs of pointed loafers on the ground. From where I was, the two looked like they were dead.

_No. _They couldn't be dead.

The screams were not coming from them. They were coming from a small girl with her dark hair in two braids. She had little Slytherin robes on and clutched the doorknob in distress.

"Gregoria!" Odessa bolted towards her little sister and picked her up like she were a baby. The two fell away from the door and against the wall, Odessa shielding her little sister from the sight.

Gregoria's screams had turned into uncontrollable sobs as Odessa brushed hair out of her face and set her back on the ground. Keeping an arm wrapped around her sister, Odessa kept the little girl's face pressed into her robes so she couldn't see it.

On the other side of the hallway, I spotted Archana's archenemy, Isadora coming forward carefully. Odessa saw her.

"Isadora! Go find Philippa and get in here!" Odessa gripped her sister and steered her into a nearby compartment, shutting the door as she turned around to look at the rest of us.

"Go get an adult! Someone do _something!_" She then reopened the door and followed Gregoria in.

Even with the door shut, I could still hear Gregoria cries quite clearly.

Isadora soon reappeared, Philippa's arm in a rough grip. "Where did they go?"

A few people pointed to the door as Philippa started yelling for her twin.

When the four were in the compartment, the Head Boy, Roger Herroph—Ravenclaw—moved forward and _enervated _the twins. They both sat up, gasping.

A sigh of relief rippled throughout the crowd.

"You: go get an adult!" He pointed to a Hufflepuff. "The rest of you go back to your compartments! Anyone loitering will receive a detention. Prefects, go!" All the prefects, started yelling for people to leave, including Will and Cilla. They knew how serious this was.

As the hallways cleared, I couldn't help but notice a few key people standing on the fray.

Blaise was staring at the door where Odessa was with her sisters.

Ginny was looking back at the commotion as she was hustled into a compartment.

I didn't see Archana, but I saw Lazzaro.

He was looking directly at me like he knew I had caused this.

I stared back until Will gripped my shoulder and spun me around, roughly.

Back in the compartment, my two remaining friends were gathering their things stiffly, but with high efficiency.

Cilla then yanked my trunk down from overhead and took the clothes I came dressed in, shoving them into it. She took the cuff and tossed it into her own trunk in contempt.

"Why are you putting that in your things?" I demanded.

"Because if someone finds this and sees the shape of the Mark on it, they'll know."

"No they won't, Cilla! People aren't _that_ smart."

"Oh really? Well then explain this to me. You were conveniently gone for a few hours, _claiming_ you were going to the bathroom to change into your robes. You come back, looking like you were crying and a half an hour later, Odessa's sister finds the _Carrow's _unconscious on the bathroom floor near the one closest to us. You probably would've gone to this one to change, am I right?

"You've been acting strange this entire train ride, Liora, even stranger when you come back. I know you hate the Carrow's and you just told us you were a Death Eater. This can't be a coincidence."

I think the shock of knowing Cilla figured it out and the fact she actually believed I had done it both had equal weights of shock.

She was right.

I denied it.

I felt sick. Cilla shook her head at me and pushed my trunk off the bench. "I don't believe you, Liora. I just can't believe you would do this."

In disgust, she shoved my trunk off the bench and turned to Will as she got up to walk out. "I'm going to see Odessa."

By then, it was completely obvious I had done it. I was horrible at holding up a façade, especially one this serious.

I looked away from Will once he moved, righting my trunk.

"Liora."

I didn't respond.

_"Liora."_

_"What? _You going to yell at me, too?" I deserved it.

He grabbed my elbows with such force, my eyes widened in fear for a moment. He stared at me, intensely.

"Look, you may be a Death Eater, but I _know _you. I _know _you wouldn't have attacked Flora and Hestia unless you were provoked. I _know_ this isn't you. Even if you are a Death Eater, I _know _you're not. You're Liora."

Shocked, my mouth dropped open. No one had ever shown this much faith in me. No one had ever showed me they cared as much as he did.

"Thanks," I managed with a dry mouth.

"I'm not gonna leave your side, especially when you seem to have no one in your corner." I did now.

I nodded.

"Will?" I asked after a moment. He still held my elbows.

"Oh sorry," I said and took a step back.

"No—not that. What do you think of…me trying out for Quidditch?"

"What?" He managed with a laugh.

* * *

I walked along the empty hallways, completely alone. The only sound were the fading voices of my classmates getting onto boats or carriages that pulled themselves.

I was watching out the window when the Carrow twins had been placed on levitating gurneys and put into a carriage that rode up ahead of the others. I didn't feel all that much remorse for what I had done. They had done so much worse to me over the years.

What I felt anxiety about was the ease I could've used an Unforgivable on them. After that warning shot, I was completely ready to torture both of them until they couldn't scream anymore. It had felt _right _with my wand back in my left hand. Now it felt wrong.

It _had _to be the Mark.

I was not sadistic like Voldemort.

I was much more sensitive than most anyone I had ever met.

More sensitive to the inhuman rage.

I couldn't lose myself this quickly. I couldn't lose myself at all. Yet, my siblings already seemed to be slipping. Fighting was what made this ordeal painful.

I _had _to keep fighting. I couldn't become the Mark on my arm.

It was amazing, the faith Will had in me. I didn't even have that much in myself. What did he gain from standing by me when everyone else realized I was beyond help? I would say he was reckless and stupid, but he wasn't. He always thought out everything he did. Perhaps he saw the spark Cilla was talking about? He had never made a comment about me being different or special, though.

I inadvertently thought about Odessa again. No doubt when she found out what I did to the Carrow twins, she would blame me for Gregoria's break down—she was probably in the Hospital Wing getting a calming draught right now.

There was such irony in Gregoria finding the Carrow's. Maybe her being a twin herself, she saw Philippa and herself lying on the bathroom floor, instead of Hestia and Flora.

Odessa and her sisters had been the first ones off the train, followed by the Carrow's. Cilla had gone to help corral the first years onto the boats.

Will hadn't wanted to leave me alone, so he had grabbed me by the hand and dragged me behind him, trying to find Archana. He couldn't, so he found the next best person, apparently.

_I rolled my eyes as we moved into the Slytherin sixth year compartment. Will should've known I wasn't welcome here, with Blaise angry and me and my brother denying me as his family. _

_Just like I predicted, Lazzaro had stood up, telling me to leave, ignoring Will like he had with Odessa. _

_"Lazzaro, mate, I need you to watch her," Will demanded. _

_"He doesn't want to and I don't need him to watch me," I informed in irritation. _

_"Shut up," both Will and Lazzaro said. _

_Lazzaro had respect for Will—obviously not for being my friend—because he was an avid Quidditch fan and acquaintances with him. _

_"Look Will, my sisters and I have an understanding that we leave each other alone during the school year. I'm sure Liora needs the space so she can carry out her _special_ mission this year. She did tell you about that, didn't she?" He was deeply sarcastic._

_"Yes, she did. But just _look _at her. She's not okay and shouldn't be left alone right now. You're her damn brother so why don't you stop being a prat and take care of your family like you're supposed to."_

_My brother had gotten agitated. "You little prick. Don't tell me about my family. If you knew _half _of what my family was going through, you wouldn't be talking." What exactly was Lazzaro referring to?_

_Will looked like he wanted to stay and argue longer, but glared down at his watch. "I have to get first years onto the boats. I don't care what you think, Lazzaro. Liora, just stay with him, please." He turned away and stomped off the train. I could tell he didn't want to leave me without a definitive answer from Lazzaro. _

_As soon as I couldn't see Will in the window any longer, I began to walk away. _

_"Liora," Lazzaro called._

_"No, Lazzaro. Will's right. You're my family and lately, everyone has been treating me like the enemy. Especially you. Even Archana has. Will is the only one actually on my side. So don't start caring about me now."_

_He hadn't said anything back._

Will wouldn't be happy that I would probably miss the carriages, but I didn't care. Partially, I had wanted to find Malfoy. I hadn't seen him standing with my brother, so maybe I could've found him. Mostly, I just wanted to stall going to Hogwarts. The train was a sort of limbo I hoped I could stay in forever.

All my problems would start when I arrived at Hogwarts.

As soon as I was halfway down the sixth year Slytherin compartment for the second time, my toe hooked around something, sending me sprawling to the ground, elbows taking the impact.

"What the hell?" I muttered to myself, flipping over and scrambling back when my foot hitting something corporeal, but invisible.

On my knees, I slowly nudged my hand forward until it felt something like fabric. I gripped it tightly and slowly drew it back, the fabric turning from invisible into a silvery pattern.

I gasped and fell backwards, as soon as I saw what the fabric was hiding. I still had it in my hand as I was startled, the rest of what was hidden underneath coming becoming visible.

On the ground in front of me was Harry Potter. He was stiff, like someone had petrified him. His nose was bent at a strange angle, dried, blackened blood running from his nostrils to chin. His emerald eyes were shifting around underneath cracked frames.

_"Enervate," _I whispered, wand shaking.

I immediately stood up and backed away, to give him space. I didn't know if he was planning of hexing me or running, but I didn't want to get in his way. He had a famous temper. Hopefully, he would be appeased that I had taken the spell off him.

Slowly, I agonized as he stood up, wondering what he was planning on doing. I didn't see his wand, but it could've been hidden up his sleeve, just like I had something hidden up mine.

The last time I had seen Potter had been in Diagon Alley. He had looked absolutely surprised to see me. It was the same look on his face, now.

"Uh…are you alright?" I asked awkwardly, voice sounding robotic.

He nodded strangely. "My nose hurts." Yeah, I bet it did. He took the silvery cloak and tucked it into his pocket. It was an invisibility cloak. I'd heard his was legendary. Of course the boy who lived had something special.

"It looks broken. Here, I'm not great at spells, but if you'd let me…_episkey." _There was a painful crunch, and he doubled over with a groan. It had actually worked?

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Thank you," he said with surprising sincerity.

"No problem." I scratched my head as we stood in uncomfortable silence.

"So, I saw you at the Slug Club." He certainly did, glaring at me nearly the entire time.

"Yes, I was roped into that against my will. That man is a loon."

"I agree." Potter smiled slightly. We didn't say anything about seeing each other at the Weasley twins' shop or me saying hello to Ginny.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?" I indicated his nose.

It was his turn to scratch his head. "I don't really want to say."

It was understandable, but I was curious to know how he ended up in the Slytherin compartment. "Then, who did it?" I tried to ask gently. My eyebrows arranged themselves in strange patterns.

"It was…Draco Malfoy and Lazzaro Cavyon." I was surprised he would tell a Slytherin.

As soon as I heard my brother's name, I covered my face with my hands, eye being rubbed. _Prat._

"Oh Merlin—I'm really, _really_ sorry about that."

"Why would you be sorry? Don't all you Slytherins hate me?" He sounded bitter.

"Don' t you hate all of us?" I retorted. "But no, that's not why I'm sorry. Lazzaro Cavyon is unfortunately my brother…he's an arse—that's putting it kindly."

His expression changed after that. _"You're_ a _Cavyon?_"

I nodded. Lately, I was ashamed to be one.

"Which one? I know there's the git in my grade. One a year younger, and then a fourth year…right?"

"I'm a fifth year. Liora." I didn't know what I was thinking as I stuck out my hand.

Hesitantly, he took it. "Harry. Harry Potter."

I smiled. "There's not really a reason for you to introduce yourself, is there?"

He shrugged. "Guess not."

"We should probably go. I'm not sure if the carriages left or not."

"Oh yeah." He remembered where we were.

Silently, he followed me off the train into the darkness.

"So, I guess, I'll be seeing you around," Harry offered.

I shrugged. "I guess. We probably shouldn't walk in together, you know. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor?" The Chosen One and a Death Eater.

He chuckled. "I suppose. It was…nice to meet you."

"You too." Surprisingly.

"Bye then," he said.

"Oh wait! I apologize for anything either of my idiotic siblings do this year." He didn't seem to know who Archana was, but I had a sinking feeling she was going to make herself known.

"You know," he said. "You don't seem like the others. You're not bad like they are. You seem different."

Then he walked away.

As I caught a carriage than seemed to be waiting just for me, I leaned back against the seat and sighed heavily.

I had just talked to Harry Potter, the one who was supposed to undo the Dark Lord.

It was strange. When I was talking to him, he was just a boy. It didn't even matter that he was a Gryffindor or that I was a Slytherin. He seemed harmless. For a second, I didn't believe that he was the Chosen One. But, I knew that he was.

_Harry Potter _had told me I was _different. _A _Death Eater_ and the little sister of one of his biggest rivals. I hoped he realized all Slytherins weren't as bad as Malfoy and Lazzaro. I had learned even people like Harry who had such gigantic stigmas weren't as unbearable as most thought.

_This is your chance to fulfill your task_, a sniveling voice in my head reminded me.

_Get away, _I thought back, pushing Ginny out of my mind.

For awhile, I just wanted to be Liora.

**SORRY THAT WAS LATE GUYS, I WAS HAVING MAJOR WRITER'S BLOCK UP UNTIL TODAY, WHEN IT ALL JUST POURED OUT. SCHOOL HAS ALSO STARTED AND I"VE BEEN PRETTY BUSY THANKS SO MUCH.**

**Moon Lantern: I will try to update more and I did get your PM. I'll send you one back in a little bit. **

**And it's true. Liora doesn't want any of this. She wishes she could be left alone, which becomes more apparent. But also, you can see how the Dark Mark will and is effecting her in a majority of different ways. **

**Dancer 4813: Hello, I'm glad you've taken such an interest in my story! Liora certainly is unique for her situation and does not want to be what she is. You will see later on the toll it will take on her and everyone else. It's going to be an angsty, surprise-filled adventure. **


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